I do not have any children, but sometimes I do wonder about them. What would they have looked like? Would they be as obtuse and difficult as I am? What music would they have liked? What would their lives look like? Most importantly, however, I often wonder how I would have loved them.
As it happened though, I had dogs, mostly Great Danes, and lately our mutt Molly of beloved memory. I also have a lot of nieces and nephews, and I can only extrapolate from how much I love them and their children and have loved my dogs, how I hopefully would have loved my children.
Those of you that do have children and grandchildren, know how much you love them. If we believe what we read about the God of Love in the Bible, how much more does God not love us?
Many parents understand the anger that can come in the midst of real love. Someone once told me, “Before I had kids, I never knew I could love so much, or that anyone could make me so angry.” Loving parents know the unique heartache and anger that comes when a beloved child becomes seduced by or entangled in things that lead to their child’s grief or harm. And, conversely, the joy and pride a parent has in the slightest achievement of a child. Remember when they made their first step, or said their first word?
Similar to a parent’s love and anger, God’s anger must always be viewed through the lens of God’s love, which may feel fierce and overwhelming, but which we know to be always good.
And, with this in mind, I looked at the juxtaposition of the beginning of last week’s Gospel reading and this week’s reading.
Last week, Jesus promised a happy ending: “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” And this week, Jesus tells us that he’s here to set fire to the world and to shake things up. He is not here to bring peace on earth, but he came to divide it.
Sadly, these few lines from Luke have been cited to justify centuries of religious strife, intolerance, and holy war. But Christ is not preaching a Holy War, he’s predicting the impact his message of love will have on our human nature. There’s no hidden agenda here. He has come to turn the value system of the world upside down. And he knows the process will not always be pretty, or easy. As a bunch of self-centred creatures, the human race will not effortlessly be transformed into the Body of Christ.
Jesus warns us that the world will not change quietly. We have to expect plenty of pushback from strangers, from neighbours, from friends, even from family.
So, when Jesus tells us, I came to set fire to the world, that doesn’t mean he wants us to build his kingdom by fire and sword, and guns. He wants us to build it through love. The pitfall of reading snippets of the gospel is that we lose context. Jesus was, is and always will be the embodiment of divine love.
As he tells us over and over, his kingdom is not of this world, but it is in the world. His call to arms is a call to unconditional love. The conflict he predicts is not a territorial struggle, the conflict will come between those who accept and follow Jesus and those who reject him; sometimes casually, sometimes contemptuously, and sadly, too often, violently.
At best, we Christians have had a very spotty record of settling our differences with love, to say nothing of the zeal with which we have often tried to foist our faith on peoples across the world. Perhaps this is all in answer to some primal “us and them” reflex. All of which flies in the face of Christ’s very specific charge to us: we are to build the kingdom by loving God and neighbour. With humble and honest witness, through the grace of God, we are called to help love his kingdom into being.
Christians are to be courageous, not aggressive. We are not supposed to fight over doctrine and dogma. We have to love and forgive and then love and forgive some more. To most it’s not easy. To many it’s just crazy. To those of us who aspire to live in Christ, it is a joy; of course, at those times when we can manage it.
When anyone has the nerve to look at the way things are and say, “this isn’t right,” it has an unavoidable effect: it divides people. Those who benefit from the comfortable status quo will fight tooth and nail to oppose anyone who tries to change things. And they will adamantly keep their blinders firmly in place to avoid having to see the reality of the world and the injustice and suffering in it. It seems to me that’s the kind of division Jesus was talking about. He didn’t retreat from the gospel of peace; he just realized that the cost of peace is justice. And he warned his disciples that they would face opposition if they followed him in advocating that kind of peace.
So, what does all this mean for us? Well, I think Jesus summed it up pretty well when he insisted that the people who gathered to hear him teach should pay attention to more than just the weather. He insisted that they take their own blinders off so they could see that things were not the way God intended. I think that’s at least a place for us to start. Whatever our background, whatever our place in life, Jesus challenges us all to take off our blinders and at least see the injustice, the poverty, and the suffering that is so prevalent all around us.
And here I think it is important to remember that poverty and injustice do not necessarily stand in direct opposition to privilege and wealth. Whatever privilege means to us with its many interpretations and connotations in today’s day and age, there are many people with immense wealth and possessions who seem to be privileged, but, in God’s realm, suffer incredible poverty of heart and spirit and live in constant pain and fear. And they are equally in need of compassion, love, and care.
So, what could help us to remove our blinders?
I think the three readings for today lay out beautifully how to live with open eyes:
Let us tend the vineyard of our lives by seeking justice in small, faithful ways by listening to someone’s pain, sharing what we have and speaking truth.
Let us run our race with the cloud of witnesses, drawing strength from their stories and from Jesus, who goes before us.
Let us open our heart to the fire of discernment, asking God to show us the signs of the times, how to understand them, and the courage to respond to them, in love and with love.
May we be a people who bear good fruit, run with faith, and walk through the fire, trusting that God’s love holds us fast.