Slicing the Times

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly agin’
Please get out of the new one if you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’

"I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. I have come to set a man against his father, a woman against her mother," says Jesus (Mt 10:34-35). Christians have a disruptive calling from God.

God’s call disrupts the world because God desires just a few things that are simple—but not easy—to obtain: good news for the poor, cures for the sick, release for the captives, recovery of sight for the blind, freedom for the oppressed. Instead, the poor get mostly bad news, the sick are denied healthcare coverage, the captives remain imprisoned, the blind are themselves unseen, and the oppressed are too busy working three minimum wage jobs to get out from under the hard yoke and heavy burden of this “healthy” economy. But God is not satisfied with this, and she’s ready to disrupt the world. The times they are a changin’.

The church exists as God’s longing for a just and peaceful world, and it is called by God to be a disruption for justice and peace. The Christian baptismal covenant explicitly includes a commitment to work for peace and justice (ELW, pg. 228, Rite of Baptism). We die in baptism to sin, and are reborn to grace. The church is God’s longing for a just and peaceful world. Chew on that for awhile.

It’s easy to hear in Matthew's text a justification for violence: I have not come to bring peace but a sword, to set a man against his father and a woman against her mother. Whatever cause you support, surely Jesus wants you to use whatever means necessary—even violence—to get it, right? Guess again. In a time of increasing extremism, it’s important to set passages such as these in their context.

First, Jesus calls us to love God with our whole selves, to love our neighbors as ourselves. He tells his disciple to put away his sword in the Garden of Gethsemane, that those who live by the sword will also die by it. When we read this passage in light of what we know about Jesus, we conclude that he is most certainly not justifying violent extremism.

Second, this gospel passage is part of Jesus’ first commissioning of the disciples. He is sending them “like sheep among wolves” and their task is to “cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, [and] cast out demons” (Mt. 10:8); they are to proclaim the good news that “the kingdom of heaven has come near” (Mt. 10:7). If they are not welcomed in a home, they are to move onto the next place, rather than force themselves on anyone. This sword that Jesus brings is powerful, but it is not a sword of violence.

Third, New Testament scholar Norm Beck notes that 2,000 years ago, when the church was just starting, Christianity attracted mostly young people, not older people of the establishment (Beck, New Testament, pg. 193). When people would convert to Christianity, it oftentimes meant splitting with their families. If you’re familiar with the story Fiddler on the Roof, you recall that the third daughter ends up marrying a Christian. As a devout Jew, her father says that she has crossed the line and has split herself off from the family. This is perhaps similar to the reaction people in Matthew’s community had experienced when they came to know Jesus. Matthew’s community was writing about what had happened, not necessarily what would happen. The sword that Jesus brings is powerful, but it is not a sword of violence.

You’ve likewise probably been—or heard of—lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer people coming out to their families, only to be disowned; a daughter is turned against her mother.

You’ve likewise probably heard of a particular German youth who chose to be an Augustinian monk instead of a lawyer, much to his father’s chagrin; a son is turned against his father.

Jesus calls people, and people feel the sword of his call. Any time a person follows Jesus, disruption follows, because nothing stays the same when Jesus is involved. The times they are a changin’.

Jesus’ call doesn’t just disrupt nuclear families, it disrupts nations, too. This country is being disrupted in a subtle but profound way, and you might have noticed it. Jesus’ sword is reshaping how we tell our collective story. Not so much how we tell his-story, but her-story, our-story, their-story. Who would have thought that granting space for people’s stories to come out would be so threatening, so disruptive? For too long we have told ourselves that the United States is God’s country, forgetting the genocide, ecocide, and constant oppression that have paid the bill for this country’s expansion and “success.” But the times they are a-changin’.

Indigenous historian Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz summarizes the issue this way:

“Writing US history from an Indigenous peoples’ perspective requires rethinking the consensual national narrative. That narrative is wrong or deficient not in its facts, dates, or details but rather in its essence… How might acknowledging the reality of US history work to transform society” (Dunbar-Ortiz, An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States, pg. 3)?

The time’s are a changin’ because people’s voices are rising, stories that have long laid dormant are thawing in the spring air. Black lives matter. The Spirit of the Earth is alive. The United States has the power and wealth it has because that power and wealth was stolen from the Earth and the Indigenous people who have lived here from time out of mind. When Jesus calls, disruption happens.

But if justice is Jesus’ call, why don’t people just go along with it, instead of resisting and causing so much trouble? Following Christ may be simple, but it is not easy.

Come senators, congressmen

Please heed the call

Don’t stand in the doorway

Don’t block up the hall

For he that gets hurt

Will be he who has stalled

There’s a battle outside

And it’s ragin’.

It’ll soon shake your windows

And rattle your walls

For the times they are a-changin’.

If Jesus calls for justice, why don’t people answer? Isn’t it simple? Here’s a Lutheran answer: those who resist Jesus’ call for justice are reading and writing these words: you and me. We are the sinners who stand in the way of God’s longing for justice and peace. And at the same time, we are called to be this justice and peace together, as saints who are unconditionally loved by this self-same Jesus. We are called to be the change God longs for in this world.

Annual Eucharist Service in El Paso/Ciudad Juarez

Here is an image of Jesus’ sword of justice, working powerfully in our sinful, saintly hands. Jesus’ people wield the sword of justice as it slices through sin right along the border of El Paso and Ciudad Juarez. Christians here gather together several times a year to share a holy meal across an invented political division that has torn families apart. "We did not cross the border," these families will say; "the border crossed us."

And now, God in Christ through the power of the Spirit slices a sword of love through that fabricated border fence. People come together to share a meal of communion across a fence, a communion that shines a bright light on our poverty of spirit. Jesus has not come to bring peace, but a sword. Let us wield this sword with courage, for the times they are a-changin’. Amen.