Charlotte
Collins Reed
Christ
Church Episcopal
August
14, 2016
15 Proper C
A few weeks ago, my cousin Larry was
in Cleveland for work so he and I met for dinner in Twinsburg one night. Larry
lives in Chicago and we see each other once in 5 years if we are lucky. Ours is a small family and Larry and his siblings
are my only cousins.
We talked about a wide variety of
things that night, and I’m sure the wait staff wondered just how long we were
going to stay. After catching up on each
other’s families and our respective careers, our conversation turned to some of
our earliest family memories. Larry and
I are the same age, and one of our earliest memories is of the house our great
grandparents built in Fordyce, Arkansas.
The house was built in 1907 and was a magnificent home, meant to house
the family for generations to come. Even
at a young age, the house made quite an impression on us as we played in the
wide hallways and spacious rooms. But
when Larry and I were 5 years old, the house burned to the ground in a deadly
fire, causing great tragedy and some division in our family. Neither of us were there at the time, so the
fire itself is not among our memories.
Larry and his family were in Chicago and my family was in New
Jersey. But when Larry and I met for
dinner that night, we wondered out loud what our family would be like had the
house not burned. On the one hand, the
house would have been home to many family gatherings at Christmas and the
cousins would have felt like we grew up together. On the other hand, the house was filled with
things that might well have been fought over in subsequent years, causing more strife
and division in the family. Our
conversation was pure conjecture, of course, but from a very early age, we were
both well aware of the chaos and division fire can cause, and the impact fire
can have on a family.
This morning, Jesus is also aware of the impact
and division fire can have, even if he is speaking about a different kind of
fire. If
this gospel reading was the entire gospel, I’d have to say that there is no
good news to be found, and that we should all pack up, go home, and watch
cartoons. But this passage about fire
and division is not the entire gospel, and should not be read as if it is. Throughout the Scriptures, fire is actually a
symbol of the presence of God. God
appeared to Moses in a burning bush. A
pillar of fire led the Israelites in their wanderings in the wilderness as a
sign of the presence of God in their midst.
A coal of fire purified the lips of Isaiah as he began his prophetic
ministry and spoke the word of God.
Tongues of fire rested on the heads of the disciples at Pentecost as
they were filled with the Holy Spirit.
Through the fire, God assures the people of the Divine Presence in their
midst.
The Divine Presence does not always
make life easy, however. When God
appeared to Moses in the burning bush, God sent Moses off to deliver the Hebrew
people from slavery in Egypt and wander in the wilderness for 40 years. The pillar of fire that led the Hebrew people
in the wilderness did not always grant them either success or a positive
attitude. Isaiah’s lips were purified by
the coal of fire so that he might speak harsh words of judgement to a people
who had strayed far from the path God had set for them. And when the disciples were filled with the
Spirit at Pentecost, they were empowered for ministry that not only spoke the
good news to vast numbers of people, but also landed them before judges and in
jail.
This morning, Jesus reads us the
fine print about being his disciple when he says “I have come 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” and so forth. Jesus has come to bring the presence of God
into our midst and he is being brutally honest about the possible consequences
of following him. Jesus is not saying
that division is what should happen as a result of his ministry and the
fire that he brings. But Jesus is warning his followers that division may
happen as some people embrace the light and others flee the flames, even within
the same household.
At Jesus’ birth, the angels sang
“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he
favors.” The great passage from Isaiah
that we read on Christmas Eve proclaims “For a child has been born for
us....and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father,
Prince of Peace.” Our surprise at the
harsh words of the gospel this morning comes from a Scripture-based understanding
that Jesus is the Messiah of Peace, the one who comes not to divide but to
unify. And yet, when the newly pregnant
Mary goes to stay with her cousin Elizabeth who is also pregnant, her song is
about the God who scatters the proud in the thoughts of their hearts, who has
brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly, who has
filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty. These are not the actions of a God who is
primarily interested in keeping the peace.
These are the actions of a God who, in Jesus, is bringing all people
into the Kingdom of God, even if it means breaking the peace and causing
division.
This morning we will baptize Cecily
Elizabeth West. When we hear Jesus say
“I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until
it is completed,” we might wonder whether baptism is a good thing to do to a
sweet baby girl. But the fire with which
Jesus was baptized was the fire of crucifixion and resurrection so that his
followers can be baptized into new life.
New life, however, is not the promise that life will always be
easy. The promise of baptism is that in
the fire that disturbs the peace, we will experience God. The promise of baptism is that in the many
fires of life, the presence of God will always sustain us. The promise of baptism is that, by being
joined with Jesus and following Jesus where he goes, the final word will always
belong to life.
Amen.
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