Whoa, who’s this Jesus?! Last week’s text was maybe a little rough, with the thief in the night metaphor and the sell all your processions, but it started with that soft, comforting, “do not be afraid, little flock,” so it felt like we had something to work with. And then here we are, just a couple verses later, and suddenly Jesus is all, “I came to bring fire to the earth… Do you think I have come to bring peace? No, I tell you, but rather division!” Whoa, whoa, wait a minute here Jesus. Number one, it was not all that many weeks ago that James and John wanted to call down fire on the Samaritans and you called them off. And now, all of a sudden, you’re cool with the fire thing? And two, yes, I did kind of think you have come to bring peace, because that’s what’s been said about you throughout the whole rest of the Gospel. That’s what the angels sang at your birth. That’s what you told your disciples to bring when they went out to spread the message. I know you are “under stress” right now, but this feels like a pretty dramatic shift from where we’d been going up to this point. What are we to do with a Jesus like this?
This passage might feel a bit out of place reading it now, in August, but the fact is there HAS been a dramatic shift in where Jesus is going. In Luke chapter nine, after Jesus came down from the transfiguration, he “set his face to go to Jerusalem.” And that’s where we going now. We’re going to Jerusalem; we’re going to the cross. Though it is today the middle of August, in our text it is the waning days of Lent, and Jesus’ crucifixion is drawing near. We may feel happily on the road with Jesus, but Jesus felt the urgency of the events ahead, and it was crucial to him that his followers were ready for what is about to happen.
Because of course, you’ll remember, his followers had no idea what was about to happen. They were still totally convinced that they were going to Jerusalem to take over the government. And then Jesus would be king, and they would all be high ranking officials, the Romans would be driven out, things would be back to the way they were during the great days of King David. And all of this would happen peacefully and easily, with minimal stress and no bloodshed. Just puppies and rainbows and King Jesus on his throne. The disciples could already see the image painted hundreds of years in the future in Sunday school classrooms the world over, the soft-focused kingly Jesus draped in white with a warm glowing light ringing his head, calm, quiet, and collected.
Oh my gosh, how badly do we want peace like that. How badly do we want peace to be calm, orderly, quiet, and safe. We want it so bad, that we are willing to go to any means to get it, even if it means silencing any who might disrupt that quiet. But quiet and calm are not same as peace. In fact, quiet and calm can be the very opposite of peace. When calm covers oppression, there is no peace. When order is injustice, there is no peace. When quiet silences those in need, there is no peace. When safety comes at the expense of others, there is no peace. The prophet Jeremiah has harsh words for those who “treat the wounds of people carelessly, saying, “Peace, peace,” when there is no peace.”
Because peace, true peace, is never quiet. Peace, true peace, is never calm. Peace is standing up to injustice. Peace is toppling the status quo. Peace is speaking truth to power and proclaiming life in the midst of death. This too was predicted at Jesus birth. When he was brought to the Temple as an infant, Simeon proclaimed Jesus as the “salvation… prepared in the presence of all people.” And in addition to salvation, Simeon proclaimed, “This child is destined for the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” What Jesus was telling his disciples was that that peace is not easy, that peace will come at a cost, and the cost will be Jesus’ own life.
And that, brothers and sisters, is the incredible, life-changing, earth-shattering good news of this pretty scary sounding passage. Jesus loves us too much to settle for the false peace of silencing dissent. Jesus loves us too much to settle for the false peace of the status quo of injustice. Jesus loves us too much to put his own safety above life for us. There is a tendency to want to read this passage as prescriptive. Too often this passage and passages like it have been used to divide us against each other. But I think this passage is really descriptive, I think this passage is about assuring the disciples, and us, that division does not mean that the kingdom of God is not here, but in fact division might just be proof of the emergence of the kingdom. When Jesus and his disciples got to Jerusalem they were met with angry crowds, corrupt rulers, and even deception from their own people. Things got so dark that the disciples ran in fear. But the cross, that most divisive tool, imposing death on life, became in fact the way in which God conquered death and wrested life back from death. Jesus could have sought easy peace and stayed away from Jerusalem, but Jesus loved us too much for such fake peace. Instead Jesus stormed right into the midst of division and drew us with him into resurrection.
The peace that Jesus came to bring always involves risk. There’s a great quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer that reads, “There is no way to peace along the way of safety. For peace must be dared, it is itself the great venture and can never be safe. Peace is the opposite of security... Peace means giving oneself completely to God’s commandment, wanting no security, but in faith and obedience laying the destiny of the nations in the hand of Almighty God.”
This is a bold statement, but when I think back on the history of the world, the followers of Jesus have always been at our best when we have followed in the footsteps of Jesus and risked division for the sake of the Gospel. Martin Luther embraced division when he nailed the ninety-five theses on the door of the church in Wittenberg and declared that God’s grace was a free gift for everyone. Martin Luther King, Jr. embraced division when he led the civil rights marchers over the Edmund Pettis Bridge and into the hands of the waiting state troopers. In our own denomination, the ELCA embraced division in 2009, when we declared that people of all gender identities and sexual orientations were created in the image of God and could be called by God as pastors and leaders in God’s church. It would have been easier in all of these situations, to turn away, stay with the status quo, and settle for a quieter peace, but it would have been at the cost of justice, it would have been at the cost of life.
It can be hard to step forward and enter into division. For so long, for too long, our tradition and our culture have fed us a soft, sweet Jesus, who would never say a cross word to anyone or stir up any trouble. And if some of God’s children got stepped on in the process, well, such was the cost of calm. But, dear people of God, Jesus loves you simply too much for that. When you are in pain, when you are held back, when someone tells you that you don’t matter, that you are less than, to keep quiet and wait your turn, Jesus will march in there and shake the very powers of heaven itself to bring you to freedom.
And because Jesus has marched into division to bring us to freedom, we can be bold to follow in Christ’s footsteps. We too can speak out against injustice. We too can proclaim truth. We too can shake the powers of earth and see God’s kingdom come among us. Be bold, dear people of God, because Jesus loves you even more boldly. Thanks be to God. Amen.
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