The Rev. Noah Van Niel
Christ and St. Luke’s
August 14th, 2022
Proper 15 (C): Jeremiah 23:23-29; Psalm 80:1-2, 8-18; Hebrews 11:29-12:2; Luke 12:49-56
The late Bishop, Barbara C. Harris, the first female Bishop ordained in the Anglican Communion, whom I got to know while growing up and serving with her in Massachusetts, had a sermon she used to preach that began in a very memorable way. Bishop Barbara, all 5ft nothing of her, skinny as a rail, hunched over, would march herself up into whatever pulpit she was ascending, and in her smoker’s rasp would bellow out “JESUS IS DANGEROUS.”
“Wait, what?” That’s what her listeners would always think. So she would say it again. “JESUS IS DANGEROUS.”
“Dangerous? Did she say dangerous? Courageous, sure. Strong? Wise? Compassionate? Loving? Of course. But dangerous? Jesus? Surely, she must be mistaken.” She was not.
“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! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided, father against son…mother against daughter…mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law.”
Is this Jesus talking? The Prince of Peace? The one who promises to gather us all together, by reconciling us and telling us forgive one another? Where is all that nice love and compassion that we have come to revere? What is he talking about?
Well, as much as much as we like to think of Jesus as the great reconciler, unifier, and zen wisdom granter, his coming was actually highly and intentionally disruptive. The entire purpose of his ministry was to jam the wheels of the status quo and make people reconsider what they believed about God and how they thought the world should be; ask them to change the way in which they were living, the way in which they were praying, the way in which they were treating each other. Everything needed to change. Now, Jesus did promise that following this path would lead to a reorientation and redemption of the whole earth, to a state of peaceful equanimity, where the lion lays down with the lamb and we no longer hurt or destroy each other. But the way to get there would not be quiet, and peaceful; it would require nothing less than a revolution of soul and society. It was going to require some fire—a fire of love, but a fire nonetheless. A fire that burns away our oppressive practices and selfish tendencies. A fire that clears out all that is not good and just so that we might reorient our souls and regrow our world in a healthier, holier way. You may remember the famous line from John the Baptist, who said, “I baptize you with water but the one coming after me will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” That’s because water washes, but fire makes new. And Jesus came to make all things new. But he warns us that such a radical change, such a major disruption, is bound to bring division, because many people will fight it, hard.
This is what Bishop Barbara meant when she memorably pronounced Jesus to be “dangerous.” She meant Jesus is dangerous to the status quo. She meant that really following him was going to force a change in you and hopefully, through you, in the world as well. But, because many people are resistant to change, especially change that purports to restructure things like power and authority, there will be those who will fight back against it in the name of keeping things the way they are. Bishop Barbara knew of what she spoke. As an African American and as the first woman consecrated a bishop in the Anglican Communion, she was a pioneer in widening the circles of Church leadership. She believed that for the Church to bear witness to that heavenly reality Jesus was pointing us towards, it required a diversity of leadership and voices in its highest ranks. But not everyone agreed. As she approached the date of her consecration, she received many obscene messages and even death threats. Things got so bad that she was urged to wear a bulletproof vest under her robes at the service. She refused. But she knew in her core the disruptive, dangerous nature of discipleship. And still she stood her ground on the front lines of the fires of change because she believed that on the other side stood a reality that was closer to God’s kingdom and that made such a struggle endurable. She believed Jesus when he promised that a loving relationship of closeness and presence with the Divine was meant to be available to all people. And she shared his vision of a new way of ordering our society that was more generous, more just, and where the abundance of the world was more evenly shared. She believed that if her life and witness as a leader in the Church could bring that reality one step closer into being, then it would be worth it.
I hope, for most of us, following Jesus and living by his law of love will not be quite such a matter of life and death. But the general point remains: Something needs to change. We need to change, and this world needs to change. Because the status quo leaves us far short of the kingdom Jesus came proclaiming. So, if we are not out to make the world more loving and just, then I’m not quite sure what we’re doing here. But sadly, such efforts are bound to cause division and difficulty, even today. How many of us know stories of those who’s coming to The Episcopal Church, with its radical emphasis on love of God and neighbor, has led to painful divisions, divisions even with close friends or family members whose faith convictions may have a different emphasis? More than a few of us, I’m sure. And just because Jesus warned us that would happen doesn’t make it any easier. For others of us the difficult nature of discipleship manifests differently but can be similarly disruptive. I find it comes often for me as a constant niggling dissatisfaction, a frustration with the way things are; a sense that you just cannot abide the world as it is at present. For the pain and the hurt and the oppression and the violence and the greed and the manipulation and self-centeredness, and the sadness that make up such large parts of how we operate seems deeply wrong. Surely, we can do better than this? If it breaks your heart to see what we’re doing to each other and to our world, then there could be nothing more important than helping to try and change it. And the way of being that Jesus showed us, in word and deed, is the way to change it. The way of love which he walked is how the world is going to be healed and renewed. But that promised change that he pointed us to, that reality of God on earth as it is in heaven, must be so beautiful in our eyes that it makes the disruptions, and the difficulties, and yes, even the dangers that may come along the way, pale in comparison. True discipleship means falling in love with the Kingdom because we can’t bear the world as it is and know it could be better. If we actually do what Jesus asks us to do: love our God and love our neighbor, yes, at times, it will be painful, yes we will suffer difficulty and heartache, we will be frustrated and we will fall short, but we will have done what we can to bring heaven and earth just a little bit closer together. And, despite the struggle, there could be no more worthwhile way to spend our lives.
I, for one, am thankful that in this struggle, we are not alone. We have Jesus, who has walked that road himself, and shown us the way through the fire, helping us see what was on the other side. But we also have each other. Fellow followers who encourage, support, and inspire us along the way. We have those people around us today and we have those who have gone before us, that “great cloud of witnesses” as the letter to the Hebrews puts it. Those who had glimpsed the kingdom reality so clearly that they could abide nothing less and endure whatever came their way. Witnesses like Bishop Barbara Harris, who, as of one month ago, officially joins their ranks, having been named, for her courage, her faith, and her ministry, the newest Saint in the calendar of our Church. Since her dramatic consecration in 1989, the Anglican Communion has now consecrated over 100 female Bishops, most of those here in The Episcopal Church. And though it has brought division, it has also brought us one step closer to being a Church that reflects more completely the fullness of God’s reality which means the Kingdom has inched that much closer into being. Thanks to her, and thanks to so many others who have withstood the fire and devoted their lives to the Gospel of Love which Christ came proclaiming, we have everything we need to “run with perseverance the race that is set before us,” embracing its challenges, changes, divisions and maybe even dangers as, together, we keep on working for the Kingdom. Amen.