June 21st Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Matthew 10: 24–39
Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your name. Amen.

I have to admit, when I first read this morning’s passage from the Gospel of Matthew, my heart sank. After all the upheaval in the last few weeks following the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis – and all the upheaval this week after Rayshard Brooks was killed in Atlanta – I was looking this morning for peace and comfort. And I was looking for that comfort to come from Jesus, the Prince of Peace.
But that’s not at all what I found. Instead, here in the tenth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, as Jesus prepares to send his disciples out to do ministry in his name, he tells them, “Do not think I have come to bring peace to this earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”
His words are confusing. They seem to contradict everything we know – or think we know – – about the Prince of Peace. So this morning I want to look more cloely at these words – to try and understand what they might have meant to Jesus’ disciples –– and what they might mean to us, especially in these days when we are all praying fervently for peace.
My way to understand Jesus’ words is to remember why he came to this earth in the first place. He came to help us glimpse the Kingdom of God and to invite us into it –– if we chose to come. And as soon as I say that, I wonder, “Well, who wouldn’t choose that> Who wouldn’t want to live in a kingdom of holiness and righteousness and peace> But even as that thought comes to mind, I remember the words of a British preacher, Alan Redpath. “Before we can pray ‘Thy Kingdom come,’ ” he said, “ we must first be willing to pray, ‘My Kingdom go.’”
And right there, of course, is the problem. The Kingdom of God is in conflict with any number of other kingdoms. People whose primary loyalty lies in the Kingdom of Self don’t want to do things God’s way. It cramps their style. It asks them to give up all kinds of self–indulgent pleasures. And then there’s the Kingdom of tyrants, who can get what they want by force. They don’t want to do things God’s way; because God’s way involves seeing worth in everyone around them, especially in the little ones, especially in the least powerful ones. And finally there are people who think in terms of authority and control. Why should people who already have authority over others rely on God’s grace? What if he put someone else in charge? Where would they be then?
What makes this truly confusing is that some of the kingdoms that conflict with the Kingdom of God are not bad, in and of themselves. For instance, there’s nothing bad about having a good mind; it is a gift, given by God. But when someone puts her mind and her education above the wisdom of God, she’s headed for disaster. Or, there’s nothing wrong with family ties. God put us in families. He asks us to honor those who have given us life. But when we allow family ties to overrule our loyalty to the Kingdom of God – one of those kingdoms has to go.
Maybe this is why, when Jesus first began his ministry, way back in the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel, he came saying, “Repent, for the Kingdom of God is at hand.” He wasn’t just asking people to give up this or that bad habit, you see. He was asking them to see things in a whole new way –– as God sees them, from God’s point of view. He was asking them to rethink their loyalties ̱ so they could accept something brand new.
So this morning, it’s no wonder that Jesus was reminding his disciples he hadn’t brought the kind of peace that upholds the status quo, the way things have always been. Instead, he had brought a sword – a sword to cut them free from loyalties that kept them from doing things God’s way.
And that, I think, is what he is asking us to do today: To re–think things, to try to see things in a whole new way. Yes, change is needed, because some of the old ways have discredited people and mistreated them. So some of those old ways must go. But by the grace of God and the fresh breath of the Holy Spirit we can co–create with God something fresh and new. Let me show you what I mean.
Down in Macon, just a few miles south of here, there are two First Baptist churches, one black and the other white. They sit almost back to back, separated by a small park, on a hill overlooking the city.
One hundred and seventy–five years ago, they were one congregation, made up of masters and slaves. But as the conflict over abolition and slavery raged across America, culminating in the Civil War, the congregation split along racial lines in 1845. And ever since that time – through the Jim Crow years, the Civil Rights movement, desegregation and beyond – the separation continued.
But a few years ago, the new pastor of the white church had lunch with the pastor of the black church, and they began to wonder. Could their two congregations, neighbors for so long, finally become friends? Could they take steps – together – to bridge the stubborn racial divide? They decided to try it.
Their first activity together was to stage a common Easter egg hunt for the children. For years, each church had held its own Easter egg hunt in the park between the two churches – each at different times. But finally, the following spring, they met there together – and the children had a great time. Then they combined other activities – a book drive, a Thanksgiving potluck supper, an outing for their two youth groups to Orlando.
Members of both churches said they had waited for this kind of reunion for decades. And when they finally set foot in each other’s churches they were amazed to see that their sanctuaries were nearly identical, with vaulted ceilings that resembled the hull of a ship. People in both congregations were so moved by the similarities, they had tears in their eyes.¹
I think what they were seeing was the sword Christ brought cutting away the divisions between them.
I think I saw that same kind of thing happening in a film ABC posted at the end of their World News Tonight program last Tuesday evening. A film crew had begun to film a young white woman named Madison Covert warming up to sing the National Anthem in a solo performance for her virtual graduation ceremony from Portland State University. Standing out in a campus courtyard, she begins, “O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light . . .” And just at that moment, a young man walking by signals to the film crew that he would like to join her song. Suddenly, the camera catches him walking into the courtyard behind her, a little to her right, his rich baritone voice harmonizing with hers. This young black guy in blue jeans, a baseball cap and a fringed jacket is Emmanuel Henried, a gifted young opera singer. And together Emmanuel and Madison finish what has become a beautiful duet.²
Their impromptu performance took my breath away as they lifted their voices together in love for our country. Once again, the sword Jesus brought had cut away a racial divide. And all that was left was the harmony.
Lord, help us to see things in a brand new way.
Amen

¹Connections November, 2016 Taken from an article by Rachel Zoll, The Associated Press, August 29, 2017, “Neighboring churches in Georgia, split on race lines, work to heal divide.”

²ABC World News Tonight, June 16, 2020 “Impromptu National Anthem Duet Recorded for Virtual Commencement”
 
 
 
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