When Jesus tells his
disciples that they should not be afraid because God cares for them so much that
even the hairs of their heads are counted, I have to think that assurance is a
lot more comforting to some people than it is for others! In fact, that
statement means less and less to me with each passing year.
On the other hand, Jesus
mercifully Jesus balances that statement out with the one about no sparrow
falling to earth without God’s notice. In ancient times, sparrows were the
cheapest and most abundant source of meat. Relatively easy to trap and kill, they
were sold for a fraction of a daily wage even though they really didn’t provide
much nourishment. Yet, Jesus remarks, if the One who created the universe wants
to and is able to keep track of the deaths of even the least valuable living
thing, economically-speaking, then imagine how much more attention will God pay
to the life of a being created in God’s image!
And that’s all well and good.
We all probably like feeling comforted and encouraged as much as the next guy
or girl, but it begs the question: why would Jesus say something to comfort and
encourage his disciples in the first place? What is going on between Jesus and
his disciples that would make such dramatic declarations of God’s care necessary?
Does Jesus say these things simply because he knows that there is a good chance
each of us will deal with some sort of hardship in our life, be it cancer, or
mental illness, or the betrayal of a spouse? It is because Jesus knows that we
all suffer as a result of the terrible inequalities in this world and our widespread
inability to discuss them lovingly and find level-headed ways to resolve them?
Would Jesus say these
particular words, for example, to the thousands of immigrant children and youth
warehoused right now at the border with Mexico who are desperately seeking a
life beyond the grip of crippling poverty and crime—that they actually are more
valuable than sparrows? Or, perhaps, is Jesus intending these words for the
vulnerable families on the American side of the border whose relatively
peaceful way of life is threatened by an ill-guarded border and an influx of illegal
newcomers? Could he somehow intend them for both?
Truth be told, I suppose
Jesus would and does want each and every person in harm’s way to be assured of
God’s presence and protection, but these particular words of comfort about the
hairs on our heads and the price of sparrows are not about just any type of
suffering, however great it may be. Jesus has words elsewhere for those
situations. These words, rather, are intended for those who will suffer on
account of their faith in and witness to him. They are spoken to those who will
be sent out to proclaim in word and deed the mercy and peace of God’s kingdom as
it is being made known in Jesus Christ. Think of them as pep rally words before
the big game or the speech from the general before the troops head into combat.
All of the words this morning
from Jesus remind us that there is a cost to being one of his disciples. It’s
easy to forget that—or gloss over it—in this day and age, and especially in
this country where freedom of religious expression is basically protected. When
I think of the costs of my own discipleship, my mind might wander to the portion
of my income that goes to support the church or other charitable organizations,
or maybe the evenings I have meetings and am pulled away from family.
Viewed this way, I’m afraid I
might reducing Christian faith to little more than a way to self-fulfillment
and inner peace, kind of like a hobby—as if Jesus came to bring about way of
thinking that leads to a more balanced, more holistic life. While there is
nothing wrong with any of those things, pep talks like the one Jesus gives his
disciples this morning are stark reminders that following Jesus is not about
self-fulfillment at all. It is always first and foremost about the kingdom of
God and finding our place in it. Following Jesus, or “walking in newness of life,” as Paul calls it, is about the
embodiment of God’s love for the world in Jesus Christ. It is about standing in
all instances as a representative of a new world order which values mercy over
sacrifice, forgiveness over revenge, and giving over receiving. Some of us may at
long last find that those kinds of things lead to self-fulfillment, but that is
not their point. Their point—and the disciple’s task—is to let folks know that
God loves the world and therefore stands against all that would tear it apart. Jesus,
the teacher, knows that his followers will be met with rejection and maybe even
persecution for the message they bring. Why? Because he himself is met with
even worse…and the disciple is not above the teacher.
Being buried with Jesus in
our own baptism and rising to walk with him involves the death of and
reorientation of a lot more things than we realize. Walking the Christian way is
about learning and re-learning that over and over again. It is about letting
the Spirit take stock of our lives and having that love of Christ renew our
vision and re-form our decisions.
In fact, that is what this
talk about family relationships is about, and why so much of Jesus’ discussion
about discipleship uses language we typically associate with family. In Jesus’
time, family bonds were, hands-down, the most important mark of one’s identity.
Family determined everything about one’s sense of well-being and his or her
place in society in a way that is difficult for us to grasp today. In fact, family
associations did not have much to do with love or affection. Family was everyone’s
primary allegiance and place of loyalty, regardless of how you personally felt
about them. This was the case even when those family arrangements were unfair
or abusive, especially to women and widows or orphaned children. The decision
to follow Jesus, then, usually challenged and often broke those allegiances. It
gave believers a new identity—and a new freedom—that took precedence over all
others.
I remember some baptisms we
performed in my internship congregation in Cairo, Egypt. One afternoon we
baptized some 30-odd Sudanese and Somali refugees who had undergone weeks of
baptismal preparation not from people in our congregation within the two
African congregations who shared the building with us. After the ceremony, one
woman shyly presented my supervisor and me with some handmade gifts she had woven
from simple fibers. The note, scrawled in broken English, which accompanied the
gifts revealed that she had originally been a member of another faith, but that
now she was so thankful to have found a true family that loved her with the love
of Jesus. Her humble gifts were actually heartfelt “thank yous” to us for
welcoming her in. I was proud of them and wanted to share the news, but my
supervisor told me not to mention a word of it to anyone. In that country, that
woman could have been sought out and killed for her decision to be baptized. It
would have quite literally set her against her mother-in-law. Or her father. Or
someone else in her family.
 |
| Baptismal font, Bornholm, Sweden |
We would never have done
anything to put that woman in harm’s way, but hers was a decision, you see, not
of self-fulfillment, not of peace with everyone in her family group, but a decision
to stand for a kingdom that was not yet fully welcome everywhere, a decision
for a family of acceptance and forgiveness.
On the other side of that
same coin, I remember a conversation I had with a man at our most recent Synod
Assembly at Roanoke College. He freely shared with those of us in his
discussion group that he looked forward every week to Sunday, not because of
the music in worship or because what he heard preached and taught edified his
life, but because, in his words, it was the only time he got to see people he
considered family.
Into the midst of so much
turmoil and uncertainty goes this family of Jesus, imperfect and wounded though
we often are, and distant though we may sometimes feel from another. Among the
borders with Mexico as well as here safe in the heart of Virginia…against the violence-mongering
mafia families of southern Italy… around the dinner tables Henrico County that
are riven by strife as well as those that are pictures of harmony…anywhere a
sparrow falls can appear this kingdom of Jesus, and we are empowered to weave
our unworthy gifts of thanks and praise with the one thread that will actually hold
the world together: the kind of love that dies on a cross.
We are sent to these places
and others like it dismantling systems and groups that with that word of love. And
when we worry about the hairs on our heads and the costs it will involve, the
complete and utter loss of our lives, let us never forget that the one who
gives us this pep talk—the one whose watery name we bear on our heads—has
decided to comfort us with more than just words. He has comforted us with his
own death. So that in the end, and as
we follow, we will not simply find peace and self-fulfillment. We will find
something far better: we will find ourselves with our brothers and sisters standing
on the side of the one kingdom where death no longer has dominion. That is, we
will find life.
Thanks be to God!
The Reverend Phillip W. Martin, Jr.
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