Text: Matthew 10:24-39
Jesus is giving instructions to his disciples - instructions which are radical and rather frightening for any of his followers to hear. The disciples to whom he is speaking in the Gospel lesson already know about the hatred Jesus has generated in the religious authorities. He has been called “Beelzebul,” he says - “prince of demons”. Jesus suggests that his followers will suffer similar or worse treatment at the hands of those who hate him. But “have no fear of them,” he says. Speak up boldly regardless. Proclaim the message, even if it costs your life. And he continues to insist that they must take the risk of declaring their loyalty to him. Their reward will be that Jesus himself will speak to God on their behalf. But this is a life-and-death effort on their part: Jesus recognizes that violence and destruction will come from the conflict between the kingdom of God and the kingdom of this world. He demands absolute loyalty; he demands to come even before one’s natural loyalties to family.
We know that in the world of first-century Palestine, during the Roman occupation, this loyalty was likely to be punished with death. Life was cheap and the threat of death came easily. How do we in our carefully organized communities oriented toward security understand or identify with the world of the early church? In our situation, we assume that security is the norm. I recently found out that one of the outstanding things about a society such as that of Peru is that personal security is not guaranteed. Walking up a steep street on the side of a mountain in the city of Cajamarca, I was aware that I needed to step carefully. The sidewalks are crooked; the edges are sharp and dangerous; there is no handrail or guardrail; dogs and children are constantly underfoot. In the busy streets, dogs and children - as well as foreign tourists - learn to be quick and careful. Crosswalks are painted on the streets but they mean nothing. Nobody looks out for your welfare; you need to look out for yourself.
Jesus is saying that life in the kingdom of God is dangerous. How does this line up with the notion we have that the church is a place for nice people who treat each other with kindness and consideration, where one doesn’t even hear bad language? I think Jesus might find our Christian communities to be pretty bland places where no one dares to do or say anything challenging or risky, where anything unpleasant is suppressed in order that we don’t upset each other with radical opinions. And Jesus might be somewhat critical of our national preoccupation with safety and comfort. There is nothing wrong with safety and comfort, but if it’s our main concern, then I think he has something to say to us. What does he say? He says it three times in this passage: “…have no fear…”, “do not fear…”, “…do not be afraid….”
It seems to me that some enthusiastic Christians in our day believe they must create conflict for themselves, thinking that this is the way to be obedient to Jesus. They generate a lot of argument and irritation with their insistence on some particular interpretation of scripture, and I suspect they think of themselves as Christian martyrs when they receive a fair amount of resistance from those around them. Is this the way to follow Jesus? Not necessarily. I doubt that Jesus wants us to be in trouble, even though he was constantly in trouble. We find ourselves in a different situation than he and his disciples were in. We don’t have to contend with a brutal military regime, and that’s a good thing. There are many Christians in the world who do live in such dangerous situations, and Jesus’ reassuring words in this passage are no doubt of great comfort to them.
Our Synod of Alberta and the Territories is very fortunate to have a missionary in El Salvador, Central America, Pastor Brian Rude. Brian grew up in Alberta, and he graduated from our seminary in Saskatoon. He worked in a parish in Calgary back in the 80s, and then accepted a call to serve the Lutheran Church in El Salvador. It’s a tough job that he does, and he does it with a great deal of creativity, imagination and humour. The rest of us benefit from Brian’s experience because he is a good thinker and writer and he sends messages and stories which are a huge challenge to us here as we fritter away our time trying to stay safe and comfortable. Here’s one of his stories which came on email last week:
Sunday, 8:30 a.m. Hot coffee in hand…reading Amos…”Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream….”
Soon enough…the voice of the President of the Republic…as usual at 9:00 a.m….As usual, we are reminded of all the wonderful things he has done, and continues to do, for his dear country, especially for the poor. In fact, he tells us, he is on his way to the UN in New York City to receive the “Path to Peace” award from the Vatican, in part for having addressed the problem of poverty so effectively in El Salvador. I don’t need this morning’s reminders to convince me of the suitability of the Jesuit University (University of Central America) radio commentator’s reaction of incredulity and indignation, and the Base Christian Communities’ declaration of disagreement [with the President‘s statements], for being totally out of line with the reality in this country.
The phone rings. So now what do I do? Do I answer my phone while the President is addressing the nation?
I do. It’s my hemophiliac friend, calling from Rosales Public Hospital (some patient…had lent him a phone card), where many of the “humanitarian” President’s poor beneficiaries agonize much of their lives. He’s been sitting on a bench in the emergency ward for two days and two nights - no bed, no sleep, no food, no medications (including factor 8, without which the long, arduous journey to the capital is pretty much futile). He feels dizzy and faint. Could I please bring him something to eat?
I do. Amazingly the guard at the hospital door lets me in (unlike last Christmas Day). We finally find a little hospital diner that’s operating on Sunday morning. At twice the price of what I would normally spend on a diner breakfast, we break his fast….I leave him with a Telecom phone card….As he returns to his bench, to continue waiting (for what?), I head off to our base community worship/reflection. One of the pre-reflections shared by email prior to our gathering, which I had just re-read before re-reading Amos, struck me as particularly apt: “The bread which they do not have calls us together to be with You, their daily bread.”
Another small reason to be grateful: the hospital exit is swarming with Transit Police. I half-expect that my car, which I had left on the street (no public parking closer than the nearest shopping mall, about one km away--Rosales Hospital patients and their visitors travel only by bus - if they can afford it - including me, normally), has been towed away, in a sudden crackdown on parking violations, as has happened to me before at this spot. But no, my car is still there, where I left it.
I hope the President has a nice time in New York City on Tuesday, accepting his award “in the name of the people”. And I hope his health people will have found some factor 8 for my friend by then - and a bed, so that he won’t still be sitting on that bench in that emergency ward, waiting…waiting…waiting….
And the letter is signed:
Peace,
Brian Rude
Pastor/Missionary of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada, waiting on/waiting with God’s people in El Salvador…waiting for justice to roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
Well, why does a man born in Alberta, a man with a good education and lots of skills and the prospect of a comfortable job in Canada go to El Salvador to suffer with God’s people there? And Brian has done some of his own suffering as well, back in the days when there was terrorism in El Salvador and he spent some days in jail while his family and friends in Canada prayed fervently for his release. He does it, I suppose, because as Jesus himself says: “A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master.” And also because Jesus says, “Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”
We can’t all go to El Salvador or anywhere else in the world where there is suffering. There’s even a certain level of suffering here in Canada. And maybe Jesus isn’t calling us to leave the country. But I do think he’s calling us to spend our time doing more than trying to be safe and comfortable. I think he’s calling us to dare to do something that is a challenge for us; I think he’s hoping we will take on some of the troubles in the world - especially in our immediate world - and find solutions for the sake of our friends and neighbours who need help. I think he’s asking us to face our fears and take some action. The God who notices even the sparrows and who knows the number of hairs on our heads will pay attention to our needs. Our ultimate safety is guaranteed - in the interim we can take some chances.
Jesus is giving instructions to his disciples - instructions which are radical and rather frightening for any of his followers to hear. The disciples to whom he is speaking in the Gospel lesson already know about the hatred Jesus has generated in the religious authorities. He has been called “Beelzebul,” he says - “prince of demons”. Jesus suggests that his followers will suffer similar or worse treatment at the hands of those who hate him. But “have no fear of them,” he says. Speak up boldly regardless. Proclaim the message, even if it costs your life. And he continues to insist that they must take the risk of declaring their loyalty to him. Their reward will be that Jesus himself will speak to God on their behalf. But this is a life-and-death effort on their part: Jesus recognizes that violence and destruction will come from the conflict between the kingdom of God and the kingdom of this world. He demands absolute loyalty; he demands to come even before one’s natural loyalties to family.
We know that in the world of first-century Palestine, during the Roman occupation, this loyalty was likely to be punished with death. Life was cheap and the threat of death came easily. How do we in our carefully organized communities oriented toward security understand or identify with the world of the early church? In our situation, we assume that security is the norm. I recently found out that one of the outstanding things about a society such as that of Peru is that personal security is not guaranteed. Walking up a steep street on the side of a mountain in the city of Cajamarca, I was aware that I needed to step carefully. The sidewalks are crooked; the edges are sharp and dangerous; there is no handrail or guardrail; dogs and children are constantly underfoot. In the busy streets, dogs and children - as well as foreign tourists - learn to be quick and careful. Crosswalks are painted on the streets but they mean nothing. Nobody looks out for your welfare; you need to look out for yourself.
Jesus is saying that life in the kingdom of God is dangerous. How does this line up with the notion we have that the church is a place for nice people who treat each other with kindness and consideration, where one doesn’t even hear bad language? I think Jesus might find our Christian communities to be pretty bland places where no one dares to do or say anything challenging or risky, where anything unpleasant is suppressed in order that we don’t upset each other with radical opinions. And Jesus might be somewhat critical of our national preoccupation with safety and comfort. There is nothing wrong with safety and comfort, but if it’s our main concern, then I think he has something to say to us. What does he say? He says it three times in this passage: “…have no fear…”, “do not fear…”, “…do not be afraid….”
It seems to me that some enthusiastic Christians in our day believe they must create conflict for themselves, thinking that this is the way to be obedient to Jesus. They generate a lot of argument and irritation with their insistence on some particular interpretation of scripture, and I suspect they think of themselves as Christian martyrs when they receive a fair amount of resistance from those around them. Is this the way to follow Jesus? Not necessarily. I doubt that Jesus wants us to be in trouble, even though he was constantly in trouble. We find ourselves in a different situation than he and his disciples were in. We don’t have to contend with a brutal military regime, and that’s a good thing. There are many Christians in the world who do live in such dangerous situations, and Jesus’ reassuring words in this passage are no doubt of great comfort to them.
Our Synod of Alberta and the Territories is very fortunate to have a missionary in El Salvador, Central America, Pastor Brian Rude. Brian grew up in Alberta, and he graduated from our seminary in Saskatoon. He worked in a parish in Calgary back in the 80s, and then accepted a call to serve the Lutheran Church in El Salvador. It’s a tough job that he does, and he does it with a great deal of creativity, imagination and humour. The rest of us benefit from Brian’s experience because he is a good thinker and writer and he sends messages and stories which are a huge challenge to us here as we fritter away our time trying to stay safe and comfortable. Here’s one of his stories which came on email last week:
Sunday, 8:30 a.m. Hot coffee in hand…reading Amos…”Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream….”
Soon enough…the voice of the President of the Republic…as usual at 9:00 a.m….As usual, we are reminded of all the wonderful things he has done, and continues to do, for his dear country, especially for the poor. In fact, he tells us, he is on his way to the UN in New York City to receive the “Path to Peace” award from the Vatican, in part for having addressed the problem of poverty so effectively in El Salvador. I don’t need this morning’s reminders to convince me of the suitability of the Jesuit University (University of Central America) radio commentator’s reaction of incredulity and indignation, and the Base Christian Communities’ declaration of disagreement [with the President‘s statements], for being totally out of line with the reality in this country.
The phone rings. So now what do I do? Do I answer my phone while the President is addressing the nation?
I do. It’s my hemophiliac friend, calling from Rosales Public Hospital (some patient…had lent him a phone card), where many of the “humanitarian” President’s poor beneficiaries agonize much of their lives. He’s been sitting on a bench in the emergency ward for two days and two nights - no bed, no sleep, no food, no medications (including factor 8, without which the long, arduous journey to the capital is pretty much futile). He feels dizzy and faint. Could I please bring him something to eat?
I do. Amazingly the guard at the hospital door lets me in (unlike last Christmas Day). We finally find a little hospital diner that’s operating on Sunday morning. At twice the price of what I would normally spend on a diner breakfast, we break his fast….I leave him with a Telecom phone card….As he returns to his bench, to continue waiting (for what?), I head off to our base community worship/reflection. One of the pre-reflections shared by email prior to our gathering, which I had just re-read before re-reading Amos, struck me as particularly apt: “The bread which they do not have calls us together to be with You, their daily bread.”
Another small reason to be grateful: the hospital exit is swarming with Transit Police. I half-expect that my car, which I had left on the street (no public parking closer than the nearest shopping mall, about one km away--Rosales Hospital patients and their visitors travel only by bus - if they can afford it - including me, normally), has been towed away, in a sudden crackdown on parking violations, as has happened to me before at this spot. But no, my car is still there, where I left it.
I hope the President has a nice time in New York City on Tuesday, accepting his award “in the name of the people”. And I hope his health people will have found some factor 8 for my friend by then - and a bed, so that he won’t still be sitting on that bench in that emergency ward, waiting…waiting…waiting….
And the letter is signed:
Peace,
Brian Rude
Pastor/Missionary of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada, waiting on/waiting with God’s people in El Salvador…waiting for justice to roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
Well, why does a man born in Alberta, a man with a good education and lots of skills and the prospect of a comfortable job in Canada go to El Salvador to suffer with God’s people there? And Brian has done some of his own suffering as well, back in the days when there was terrorism in El Salvador and he spent some days in jail while his family and friends in Canada prayed fervently for his release. He does it, I suppose, because as Jesus himself says: “A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master.” And also because Jesus says, “Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”
We can’t all go to El Salvador or anywhere else in the world where there is suffering. There’s even a certain level of suffering here in Canada. And maybe Jesus isn’t calling us to leave the country. But I do think he’s calling us to spend our time doing more than trying to be safe and comfortable. I think he’s calling us to dare to do something that is a challenge for us; I think he’s hoping we will take on some of the troubles in the world - especially in our immediate world - and find solutions for the sake of our friends and neighbours who need help. I think he’s asking us to face our fears and take some action. The God who notices even the sparrows and who knows the number of hairs on our heads will pay attention to our needs. Our ultimate safety is guaranteed - in the interim we can take some chances.
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