The Gospel Lesson Luke 9:51-62
When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to prepare for his arrival, but they did not receive him because his face was set toward Jerusalem. When his disciples James and John saw this, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” But he turned and rebuked them. Then they went on to another village.
As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” And Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” And Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
Sermon Text
The passage we read today captures what I believe is a moment of frustration in the ministry of Jesus. He is coming to the end of his earthly ministry, and the reality of the cross lingers darkly on the horizon. As Christ begins to make his way to Jerusalem, he does so knowing that the end of that path is the end of his life. Regardless of the eventuality of the resurrection, Jesus was going to face death in full, and that is not an easy cup for any person to drink. We are given an account of Jesus being denied entry into a town of Samaritans.
We are told they did not want him in town because he was going to Jerusalem. Why would that stop them from welcoming him? Some of them may have seen his journey there for his final Passover as a betrayal. He had led a long ministry of inclusion of the Samaritans, and now he was going to break bread with their oppressors. Maybe a more sympathetic perspective was in their mind, perhaps they knew Jesus was going to his death and they thought they could stop him by not offering a place to stay. Perhaps, most simply, they just did not like him.
Regardless, we see the disciples react to the news of their rejection angrily. They call for Jesus to send fire down from heaven to destroy the town. Jesus does not feed into their anger, but quickly shuts it down. The image the scripture draws a powerful image of Jesus’s frustration with his disciples. It specifically says he turns, in other words this is a discussion being had as they make their way down the highways of Judea. Christ, literally ahead of the offending disciples, spins around and stops their march to his own death. Luke does not record the words of his rebuke, but it should not be hard to imagine what Christ might say.
“What is wrong with you?!” He booms, “When have when been in the business of carpet bombing cities? When have you ever seen me, mistreated as I am, ever raise my hand to strike someone, let alone to kill?!” Christ, who has just told his disciples that they must take up their cross and follow him, is realizing that his entire ministry with his closest companions has not changed them, not fully, not yet. They are still clinging onto things that keep them from knowing the fullness of who Christ is.
The next few interactions Christ has with people that cross his path seem to reflect the general state of his ministry. People keep coming to him, but they do not know what they are signing up for. “I will follow you wherever you go!” is met with Christ’s harsh truth, “Unless you want to be homeless, then this is not the life for you.” When he meets someone who he sees is ready to join his ministry, he is told that he must first return to his family for his father’s burial. “The people you leave have no hope, and so they should be left to attend to the funeral alone. You have the duty, having seen the Kingdom of Heaven, to bring people to life!” Finally, someone sentimentally asks to be able to go home and tell their family goodbye, Christ responds, “If you have your doubts, then this cannot be the path you walk.”
I do not think that Christ was pushed over the limit, was speaking an unfiltered perspective. I am not implying Christ was flying off the handle as he walked the streets of Judea, but I do think that Christ’s hardest teachings were intentionally placed next to each other like this. We are meant to see Christ looking us in the face, and scolding us for our own failings, as much as we are supposed to hear the specific instructions he gave to specific people centuries ago.
Not every message from Christ was one of hope, at least not on the surface. When people realized what God had to offer, it was a serious matter if they turned their back on it. When his disciples desired to kill, rather than accept that they had signed up to die the moment they joined him – that was a serious sin. When he called someone to follow him, and they wanted to linger in town another week, Christ knew they were seeking an escape. When someone asked to go home before they followed him, he knew they did not truly wish to follow him at all, not without comfort at least.
In our own life, we will not often find an opportunity to do ministry like what Christ would offer. You are not present with Christ in the limited time he walked the earth if you serve Christ now. However, you are still bound to devote yourself to the work you agree to take on. When I took my vows to pursue the life of a minister, I gave up many rights and freedoms because of it. When a person joins the Church, they renounce evil and injustice and sin and all worldly inclinations. To follow Christ is to take up our cross, to serve our God without ceasing, to understand that we are made free only in joyful obedience to the one who calls us.
There is a time for words of consolation, for us to be reminded that God is a God of rest and a God who asks us to care for those close to us. However, that must be tempered with the harsh reality of the ministry we are called to. Christ was homeless, how uncomfortable am I willing to be? Christ suffered alone, am I willing to be lonely sometimes if it means spreading the Kingdom? Christ never moved from his path to his destiny, except to save others from themselves, how devoted are we to finishing what we start?
In the life of faith, I think that daily examen is helpful, not only to foster growth, but to acknowledge our sticking points. What have we been unwilling to give up for the good of the Kingdom, and ultimately for our own good.
Now, the word of caution here is that God does not ask us to give up our family or our other responsibilities. “But the man who was burying his father! And the one who was not allowed to go home!” In one case the father was dead and in the other the man was not told he could never return home, just that he needed to leave town now. More than that, Christ specifically forbids us from using God as an excuse to abandon our familial responsibilities.[1] When I speak of giving up for God, I mean giving up the comfortable parts of life, not just the ones that free up time for ministry. Invariably, those who give up on their family to pursue “ministry,” do so because they think ministry is easier than family life, and they would rather do one as a free person than the other with limitation.
What we need to do, in examining our life and the way we live it, is not to look for excuses or easy ways out. We have to look into the face of Christ, to pray earnestly, and acknowledge that the God we worship is a homeless God. Not once on earth did Christ seek to settle, as soon as he could go on the road he did, and that path led him straight to his death. If we worship a God who gave up all comfort for the good of the people who misunderstood, hated, and ultimately killed him, what can we do to even partially account for the ways we worship our own interests in place of him? If I must stand before Christ and give a full account of my life someday, I hope it is not of the many missed opportunities I had to serve Christ, but that were too inconvenient for my life to pursue.
I do not write these words to criticize any one of their readers. I am guilty of ever crime I have written of within this text. The knowledge of that guilt compels me to ask others to name it too. We do not have to be trapped in our own sin, to be lost in complacency which we call “comfort,” or “life as it is.” We can accept the cross Christ offers us, to give up our desire for vengeance and comfort and a status quo that ultimately benefits us. Let us love radically, sacrificially, and ultimately in a way that resembles the God we serve. – Amen.
[1] Mark 7: 9-13