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The Thirteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; June 27, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: 2 Kings 2: 1-2, 6-14
Psalm 77: 1-2, 11-20
Galatians 5: 1, 13-25
Luke 9: 51-62 *
“Beware of God”
--} While making a routine potty stop on our summer vacation, a gentleman saw our van adorned with all the colorful bumper stickers [if you’ve seen our van you know we’ve got some of everything on it]; and as we were getting ready to depart he came over and offered to give us a new bumper sticker. When we asked him what was on it, he proudly lifted up his shirt, revealing a large rectangle with black and red lettering—“BEWARE of God”—adding verbally, “he’s jealous—you know!” And when he asked if we’d like one of these bumper stickers, telling us that he’d just copyrighted the message, it was Desireé quickly responding first, “I don’t think we would put that bumper sticker on our van.” Our encounter ended amicably, but the gentleman was clearly disappointed.
So as we got back on the road, I asked, “not that I disagree, but just why is that we wouldn’t put “that” bumper sticker on our van?” Thinking for a moment, Desireé responded, “that just doesn’t seem like a message we should be sharing—“beware of God”—like there’s something to be afraid of.” “Beware of God”—like we might say, “beware of snakes” on a hiking trail, or worse, “beware of God” because God’s out to gettcha!—like all the highway signs reminding drivers that “speed limits are strictly enforced,” suggesting you have every reason to “beware,” or “fear” highway patrol officers. Instead, we decided that if there was anything to “beware” of God about, it was probably the fact that God’s love for us is just so abundantly incredible that we should “beware” because God loves us so much God’s just going to knock us out with loving-kindness—just the opposite of what the gentleman seemed to be hinting at with his bumper stickers.
I often think our presumptions about God’s judgment and our assumptions about our relationship with God get us into trouble. We like the comfort of the judgment seat—judging those who we think are or should be on the outside of God’s love; hoping that by our condemnation of their behavior that they’ll somehow see the light or the error of their ways. “Beware of God”—you don’t want God to punish you for doing something wrong! And we often think or “believe” that we are in control of our relationship with God. That Jesus is always “calling us,” and all we have to do is to “accept him;” or that God is just waiting around until we say, “yes.”
Similarly, I think church “tradition” has greatly misinformed our perceptions about today’s gospel lesson. The “traditional” interpretation of today’s reading is that Jesus is teaching the church, including modern believers, about “discipleship”—by describing the sacrifices that are necessary if we are to be faithful to Jesus. “Beware of God…”—he’s jealous—so make following Jesus and doing what he asks your only focus!
But professor David Lose makes a compelling argument AGAINST the “tradition,” suggesting the focus of today’s passage is not “discipleship,” but the single-minded purpose of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem. Jerusalem is where Jesus will suffer, be crucified, and die; where Jesus demonstrates for us most fully God’s profound love for humanity and all the world. So that for Lose, these stories aren’t about showing us how to be good disciples; but instead, demonstrating the love and work of God that changes the world and human beings with it. And I’m inclined to believe he’s on to something. Because Jesus in Luke’s gospel is rooted in forgiveness, and today’s text has some details that I believe help us to turn it around from the “traditional view”—giving us instead a vision of how God loves us in spite of ourselves!
In today’s gospel reading, Luke uses two stories to make a point—the first story is about Jesus not being welcomed in a Samaritan village; with a following story where Jesus responds to some people traveling in the entourage between villages. In the first story, Jesus has sent messengers ahead of him to prepare for his arrival in a Samaritan village; but the villagers, somehow knowing that Jesus intends to go to Jerusalem, refuse to welcome him. “Jerusalem” being the central place of worship for Jews was one of the well-known disagreements between Jews and Samaritans. It’s no surprise for Jesus to be refused under these circumstances; yet, assuming the response is only negative, when James and John hear it, they offer to call down fire from heaven to consume the unwelcoming villagers.
In response to the villagers and James and John, Luke tells us in verse 55 that Jesus “turned and rebuked them.” While seemingly obvious to us “who” gets rebuked, the use of the pronoun in the text means we can’t be entirely sure. Does Jesus rebuke the villagers for refusing to welcome him, or James and John who presume to call down fire from heaven—or maybe, a bit of both? But the curious thing is that the word that gets translated as “rebuke” is a compound word, with the strongest root word being one that means “to honor.” And the historical pattern where this “rebuking” word is used implies not only a “reproving” or “rebuke” of the one party, it suggests a possible vindication for the other party. So that while “rebuking” the disciples on the one hand, Jesus is somehow affirming the villagers on the other—as if Jesus were choosing between the unwelcoming-ness of the villagers or the calling down of heaven’s fire. And—strange as it sounds—Jesus seems to bless the un-welcome.
It’s this story, I believe, that serves to complicate matters in our “traditional” reading of the second story. Because in the second story, the three people who interact with Jesus all seem to have a kind of “un-welcome-ness” about them. When the first person approaches Jesus saying, “I will follow you wherever you go,” it’s as if Jesus is deterring him: Jesus says, “foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the son of man has no place to lay his head”—as if this man hadn’t considered the consequences of “following.” And when Jesus says to a second person, “follow me,” the man tries to excuse himself from the duty with the reply, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” He seems to turn Jesus down as easily as the Samaritan villagers. And when the third person, perhaps hoping to be a better example, steps up offering, “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me say farewell—or really, let me separate myself—from those at my home”—Jesus responds rather scathingly, “no one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
So often, this passage is proclaimed as Jesus wanting us to “follow him.” But the Samaritans won’t welcome him. Two people “volunteer,” but Jesus seems to “un-invite” them in his response. And when Jesus actually “calls” to the man in the middle, saying, “follow me,” he too ends up “not following.” On the surface, we’re convinced that we shouldn’t say “no” to Jesus—that there’s nothing worse. But lets look very carefully at verses 59 and 60.
To another [Jesus] said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” But Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”Notice how we move from Jesus’ invitation to “follow”—to which the man says, “I can’t”—to Jesus saying, as if commissioning him elsewise, “as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” While the encounter begins with Jesus inviting or commanding the man to “follow,” it ends with Jesus re-commissioning him to “go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Verse 59 is about “following;” verse 60 results in no following, but instead proclaiming. This sounds strikingly similar to what Jesus says to the man Legion—from whom all the demons had gone out—when the healed man begs Jesus that he might go with him. Jesus said to him instead, “return to your home and declare how much God has done for you.” Don’t follow. Proclaim the kingdom!
So why should it seem strange that at first, Jesus would choose the Samaritan villagers’ “unwelcome-ness” over the fire from heaven suggested by his disciples? Why should it seem strange that Jesus would seem to send away two willing volunteers—who offer to follow at nearly any cost, but choose to “re-commission” the one man who responds to “follow me” by saying, “no, I really can’t follow you, today.” Why should it seem strange to us that Jesus might not be as indignant as we are about peoples thoughts, actions, or behaviors? And why shouldn’t it seem strange that we would make all kinds of assumptions about how “faith” is supposed to work, assuming we can give our hearts to Jesus, and he’s always waiting for us to say “yes” with open arms?
Friends, this reading of the gospel story forces us to take issue with the “tradition” that would have us beat ourselves up over all the times and places we might have failed or fallen short or caused God grief because we might prefer to say, “no.” While tradition would have us act as if we needed to “beware” of God’s demands—lest we fail to pay proper attention, deserving of fire being called down upon us—Luke seems intent to tell us about a Jesus who is single-minded about going to Jerusalem for our sake and the sake of changing the world. And because Jesus changes the world, we should recognize new opportunities in faith.
Instead of forcing us down and out, perhaps these stories ought to demonstrate Jesus picking us up by the nape of our necks, lovingly looking us over despite our condition, and setting us on our way again—instructing us to “go and proclaim God’s kingdom. Because Jesus doesn’t need another set of disciples who are simply following him to stand in his shadow and watch again what happens to him—so-called “followers” who simply look around shocked and amazed at the mistreatment of Jesus on the cross. Instead, Luke is reminding believers that Jesus needs them to go out and proclaim the Kingdom of God; to do the things Jesus did BEFORE he got on his high-horse and went to Jerusalem to do God’s thing for us. Jesus needs believers who won’t just blindly follow for the sake of following, but who will take seriously to tell what they’ve seen and heard about the kingdom of God.
Friends, as David Lose observes, “everything looks different when viewed through the lens of God’s sacrificial love.” Luke seems to be seeking to remind believers that even when we might want to say “no,” even when we might doubt we’re up to the challenges of faith, even if we put other commitments ahead of our religious ones—“Beware of God.” Because God has a plan to love us and use us, even if—even when—we try and say, “no.” “Beware of God”—because the case may be that we’re actually a part of God’s reign whether we choose to be or want to be, or not. Not that we should take forgiveness for granted, but that God’s love doesn’t depend on our response.
--+ Friends, the Holy Spirit has come; Christ has been raised—and so are we. Jesus invites us not to dwell on the places where we’ve been lax, but to go and proclaim the Kingdom of God. AMEN.
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