The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

In case you missed it the first time, let me repeat what we just heard: "I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” Oy, Jesus, don’t we have enough division already?

We could dismiss this by chalking it up to his having a really bad day—after all he does tell us he is under great stress--his end to his ministry on earth, the betrayal, suffering and death that loomed around the corner in Jerusalem.

While Jesus always meant exactly what he said, he used parables and metaphor—images or figures of speech—to make his point. The church was born through combustion—through the blazing trail of hot flames generated by the Holy Spirit and landing on the people gathered in that upper room. The day of Pentecost was the day when the disciples of Jesus were ignited with a passion for spreading the gospel, healing the sick, fighting the dragons of oppression and malice.

The early church was full of excitement and drama and risk-taking and anticipation. The Acts of the Apostles bears testimony to that. Could it be that Jesus knew how complacent, laid back, and even downright apathetic the church could become? Is that the reason he wishes that the “fire” gets kindled again and again and again?

That brings us to the talk about family and division.

A young woman came to see a therapist. She said, "John and I are having a terrible time, and we need your advice. We are trying to decide how to divide the furniture, who gets what of the money we’ve saved and who gets custody of the children."

"Oh," the therapist asked, "are you contemplating divorce?"

"Oh, no," she replied. "We are trying to work out our prenuptial agreement." Believe me, this happens!

Family division.  Remember that in the audience who first heard this Gospel were people who would decide to follow Jesus and become “People of the Way” (as they were described before the term “Christian” was coined in Antioch.) They would, in fact, face persecution, many would be killed, and even the families of those who chose Christianity would be victimized by the authorities. So, to survive that, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and children did disown those in their clan who chose to follow Christ.

Now, while this still happens to some extent, while parents or other relatives may reject the decision of a member of the family to worship in another faith tradition—or none at all, I don’t believe that this part of the text is so much about that sad phenomenon as it is about how Jesus is redefining what family is in the kingdom of God. For him, it was not about genes and DNA, but rather in whose image you are created.

 In 2015, North Carolina public “found-object” sculptor, artist William Massey created a piece called “The Art of Reconciliation.” Inviting more than 200 people from Atlanta to clean up discarded objects from the streets, he then hung the objects onto a metal frame and asked the community to paint their personal stories and creative images onto the “abandoned junk.”

The art sessions welcomed all members of the community, including the homeless, local business folk, veterans, children, and others. The result was the image of a man named Tony who had been homeless but with the help of his community, he was supported and lifted back into recognition of his worth.

Today, he is employed and a contributing member of his community. Massey’s sculpture of Tony “stands as a testament not only to the unity and generative culture which creativity can foster, but …it is a monument of hope and redemption for each of us.”

The word “reconciliation” (apellachthi in Luke’s Greek) refers to the process of restoring relationships that have been broken in some way by conflict or division. The process of reconciliation involves addressing the roots of the conflict and then listening, taking responsibility, apologizing, making amends, and working to rebuild trust. 

Reconciliation is a way of healing with love what anger, pain, rejection, and mistrust has divided. Reconciliation makes whole what has been spliced and diced. Reconciliation introduces integrity and restores harmony and unity even among those who appear radically different.

Massey’s art, made up of “rejected trash” proves that nothing and no one is dispensable and that when communities come together, people will become strong, whole, restored, and beautiful.

The gospel is not a flashlight but a fire. It can warm and it can burn. The gospel is not a table knife but a sword. It can set free and divide. The gospel is not pablum. It is powerful stuff, powerful enough to challenge the most sacred human ties, but as frightening as it is, it is not finally to be feared. The force of the Gospel—the fire—commands a rejection of division and a commitment to reconciliation.

Today it asks the big question can we stand the heat when Jesus sends us that fire and will we douse it out with water or let the Holy Spirit ignite us with passion. We are that great crowd of witnesses.