Bringing Peace [Luke 12:49-56 - Proper 15C]

The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Luke 12:49-56

 

Bringing peace

 

There are contradictions in the Bible.  I don’t say that to be controversial or scandalous.  I say that because it is true.  Ezra says that 200 singers accompanied the assembly; Nehemiah claims there were 245.  I Kings is more conservative on Solomon’s extraordinary love of baths than is the author of 2 Chronicles.  In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a single colt; in Matthew’s Gospel Jesus creatively, and flexibly, straddles two animals at once.  Jesus carries his own cross in John’s Gospel, a Gospel that actually has very little in common with the other three canonical Gospels; Simon of Cyrene helps out in Matthew’s telling.    

 

None of these contradictions are all that significant.  They do not alter or compromise the central message of the canon.  Neither are the contradictions unexpected.  There are 66 books in the Bible, not to mention the additional books that you might find sandwiched in between the Testaments in your New Oxford Annotated, a collection of books we call the Apocrypha.  The books that make up our Bible were written by a variety of authors, edited by a variety of scribes, over a number of centuries.

 

In the Episcopal tradition we believe that the authors of the Scriptures were inspired by the Holy Spirit, not controlled or commandeered by the Holy Spirit.  That inspiration has blessed us, not only with a beautiful narrative arch, an amazing salvation story, it has also blessed us with a diversity of perspectives on the divine-human relationship.  Our faith would not be as rich without four unique Gospels.  The rollercoaster of emotions in the Psalms help us to talk with God through the highs and lows of life.  The ways in which Job spars with Proverbs reminds us that there are no easy answers. 

 

Sitting in this room today are people who are sealed, filled, and inspired by the Holy Spirit.  The same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead lives in you and lives in me.  The same Spirit that guided the writers of Holy Scriptures guides you through your life.  And yet we do not always agree on all things God. If  I asked each of you to write an essay describing the ways in which God is present and active in the world, I suspect we would discover some differences in those compositions – even significant differences.  [Examples] Our perspectives and opinions, our life experiences and our biases: they shape our understandings of God.  The authors of the Bible were human too.  They had agendas; they had purposes and perspectives; they too were shaped by their life experiences and their cultural contexts.

 

It is not surprising then that the four writers of the four Gospels offer unique perspectives on the life, words, and works of Jesus.  It is not any more surprising than the reality that you and I would tell different stories about Jesus, or about this church, or about this city, or about the state of our nation.  What is a bit surprising though is when the contradictions are found within one book, written by one author: in this case Luke.

 

Luke, unlike Mark and John, begins his Gospel with an infancy narrative.  Matthew does too; Matthew has the magi, the wise men.  Luke has the shepherds and the angels.  You might remember that scene early in the Third Gospel; it is recited in the Charlie Brown Christmas special.  The angels, with all of the appropriate fanfare, announce to the shepherds the birth of Jesus, a birth that the angels declare will bring with it peace on earth.  And so when Jesus poses the question, in today’s Gospel passage, “Do you think I have come to bring peace to the earth?” the obvious answer is, of course, yes.  Because the angels said so earlier in the same book of the Bible.  Even during his own ministry, Jesus had a habit of sending forth those he healed in peace; he commanded his disciples, when he commissioned them to share the good news throughout the region, to greet their host families with peace.  The first thing the Risen Christ says to his disciples when he suddenly appears in their locked room is: Peace be with you.  It does appear that Jesus does bring peace.  He brings it all over the Gospel, from beginning to end.

 

But not here; not in the passage we heard this morning.  In fact, in today’s Gospel, Jesus does the opposite.

 

The whole thing feels very contradictory.  A Prince of Peace who refuses to bring peace.  And it is not just the peace thing.  At the beginning of his ministry, Jesus says that his mission is to bring good news to the poor; in this chapter he declares his intention is to bring fiery judgment and division, to tear families apart – and that just doesn’t really sound all that much like good news.  This is the same Jesus who commands his followers to love their enemies, to pray for their abusers, to be merciful and forgiving. 

 

Maybe he grew jaded over the course of a few chapters.  Taking all of those losses, spending all that love on the undeserving, can take a toll.  But, you know, I don’t think that is it.  Because from the cross, at the end of his life, Jesus uses the last of his air to forgive his enemies, his murders, and to welcome a criminal into paradise.  In the end he doesn’t go out in a fiery blaze of glory; Jesus dies as the Prince of Peace.

 

I think what Jesus found during his life and ministry is that love isn’t always welcome and the “good” in good news can feel subjective and peace often causes division.  Jesus was announced by the angels; he was love incarnate; he healed the sick and treasured the poor; he was the best of us.  He barely made it into his mid-30’s; three years of his ministry was all this world could take.  He did bring peace, the angels were correct, but also he did bring division.  In this case the contradiction was not that at all.  It was not an either/or; it was a both/and. 

 

In Luke’s Gospel peace is not the absence of conflict; it is the presence of love.  And love doesn’t play nice; it does good.  Peace is meant to disrupt the violent patterns of the human species.  Peace is meant to subvert the mighty with mercy and the profiteers with forgiveness and the powerful with humility.  Peace is meant to remake this world in the image of Heaven.  In a chaotic, divisive world, peace shakes things up.  And that is what Jesus came to do; it is what he did.  Some welcomed his reign of peace; others readied the crown of thorns.  And those divisions occurred even within the most intimate of relationships, even within homes.    

 

That was the case during Jesus’ earthly ministry; and it has always been the case, throughout history.  The stories of the saints are littered with tales of broken and conflicted families.  Perpetua’s father ensured his daughter’s violent martyrdom; Thomas Aquinas was kidnapped and held captive by his own brothers because he joined the Dominicans; Francis of Assisi was sued by his dad for giving their wealth to the poor and the faithful. 

 

And then there is the story of Manche Masemola.  Manche Masemola was born in South Africa in 1913.  She was a member of the Pedi tribe – a tribe that lived a hard life in some of the harshest lands of southern Africa.  When she was 6 years old an Anglican mission was established nearby.  As a child she first attended the Anglican mission with her cousin.  It was her first experience of the Christian religion; it is where she met Jesus, the Prince of Peace.  

 

Most of her tribe was suspicious of Christianity, her parents included.  They strictly forbid her from visiting the church.  But she heard Jesus calling her name and she followed.  Twice a week she would go to learn more about Jesus, and about his divisive peace, and about his extravagant love; she did so despite the personal cost.  Her parents tried stop her; they used witch doctor potions; they hid her clothes; they beat her.  But she kept going.  Unable to keep their daughter from Jesus, when Manche was just fifteen years old, her parents took her to a secluded place and killed her.

 

Mother against daughter.  A family divided by the Prince of Peace.  But remember peace is not the absence of conflict; it is the presence of love.  And love is always worth it.  In the presence of violence, in the midst of despair, love was doing its good work.  Forty years after burying her daughter, Manche's mother was baptized into the Body of Christ, the same Christ who so captured her young daughter's heart.  

 

In another Gospel, Jesus says, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be children of God.”  Those who dare to bring peace, make peace, love peace, children of the God of who overcomes death and wipes away tears, are not promised a peaceable greeting in this world or in this life.  That is true; Jesus is proof of that truth.  But it is also true that those who come in peace do so because the Spirit compels them, because they are not content with the ways of this world.  We come in peace because we believe there is something better, something beautiful, something heavenly, on the other side of the divide.