Joel D. Kline
May 29, 2005
Highland Avenue Church of the Brethren
The Second Sunday after Pentecost
This morning’s Gospel lesson comes at the conclusion of the Sermon on the Mount, the largest single collection that we have of the teachings of Jesus. It is a Sermon in which Jesus provides his listeners with a great deal of instruction, much of which would have been shocking to them. In the midst of conflict, Jesus says, turn the other cheek; go the extra mile in relationships; love your enemies and pray for those who would persecute you; embrace a piety, not as outward show, but as a matter of the heart; seek God’s kingdom before all other demands upon your life; live as salt of the earth and light of the world; consider the upside-down words of blessing for those at the margins of life—the poor, the broken, the makers of peace, those who are at the end of their rope, yet are hungering and thirsting for life with God. The Sermon on the Mount represents something of a manifesto or an outline of the very nature of life in the realm of God.
As Jesus concludes the Sermon on the Mount, he turns to words of warning. In effect, Jesus is saying, “These words I have shared with you are not to be taken lightly, as a grain of salt; rather, take them to heart. Keep your wits about you, for you are being called to a new way of living that goes against the grain of how life is most commonly lived. It’s the way of compassion and peace, self-giving love and servanthood, mercy and grace.”
The warning is stated with clarity: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven” (Matthew 7:21). And then Jesus uses the familiar parable of two builders to reiterate the call to hear and to act. One builder erects a house on a rock solid foundation, while a second is shortsighted, building his house upon the sand. Likely Jesus has in mind a wadi, a Palestinian riverbed that is dry most of the year. During that time, the flat land in the riverbed would be easy to form into a foundation. But the foundation would be illusory, for when the rains come, a flood would rush through the wadi and down would come the house.
Jesus, of course, is not primarily concerned with the construction of houses at all, but with the building of our lives. William Willimon, United Methodist bishop, reminds us, “Hearing these words, Jesus’ moral instruction, and acting upon [that instruction], making it a part of your life, is the rock, the solid foundation upon which to build. No storm can shake such a basis for a life.”
In reality, Jesus is calling us to embrace a new identity. His entire life and ministry centered on proclaiming a new vision of what it means to the people of God, one that frequently led him to be in conflict with other religious leaders of the day. Those scribes and Pharisees, while urging separation from the world, placed primary focus upon purity—remaining untainted by the world, religiously adhering to rules and regulations, affirming that God’s love is for the faithful folks of Israel, and Israel alone. Jesus, on the other hand, came announcing that Israel’s God is the God of grace for the whole world, and those who love and serve God are called to be a part of the world, to be salt and light in the world, embodying the very character of Jesus—compassion and loving kindness, mercy and peace.
John Claypool, one of the preachers at the Festival of Homiletics I attended recently, shared an old Jewish story about a poor farmer, struggling to eke out a living, who is visited by the angel Gabriel. Gabriel informs the besieged farmer that God has taken note of his struggles and will grant him three wishes. The only stipulation is that, no matter what the farmer himself receives, his neighbor would receive that same blessing twofold. The poor farmer considers what he might ask far, and finally he decides to ask for 1000 cattle. And immediately, as he looks out across the meadowland before him, he sees a seemingly endless horde of healthy cattle.
The farmer is delighted beyond measure, until he happens to journey beyond a small hill, where he is able to see his neighbor’s land. Suddenly he remembers the angel’s words—that the neighbor would receive double whatever the poor farmer requests for himself. And as the farmer looks across his neighbor’s land, he realizes that the neighbor now has twice as many cattle as does he.
The farmer returns home grumbling to himself, but soon forgets about the neighbor as he ponders what else he might wish for. Though his wife and he had long yearned to have a family, they have remained childless for many years. And so the farmer wishes for a baby, and in due time his wife delivers a healthy child. Having waited for years, the couple is overcome with joy. But on a trek to the nearby village, all the farmer hears is the community chattering excitedly about his neighbor’s good fortune—the birth of twins.
The farmer is enraged, and becomes obsessed with the injustice of the situation. Why should the neighbor receive gifts twofold, while he, who has long done without, receives only half? Seething with jealousy, the farmer thinks and thinks, and when Gabriel returns to hear of the man’s third and final wish, he is little prepared to hear the farmer say, “I wish that you would gouge out my left eye,” knowing full well that granting this request would leave his neighbor fully blinded. Appalled at the depth of the man’s cruelty, the angel Gabriel could only lament, “Why would you turn to such evil and darkness?” And after some time, Gabriel tells the man that God, in his mercy, refuses to grant this third request. Nevertheless the angel bemoans, “You have brought tears to the eyes of God,” and he turns away sorrowfully from the farmer.
Jesus calls us to live as a compassionate and loving community, but the tragic truth is that all too many of us “religious” folk are tempted to become like that farmer of old, fearful lest others receive greater blessings in life than do we, suspicious and fearful of the intentions of others, using our religious faith, not as a means of drawing others in, but as a means of excluding and separating and pushing away. Jesus, on the other hand, came proclaiming an alternative vision of life that demands the opening of our hearts, celebrating the gifts with which we have been blessed and the gifts that have been shared with others. Jesus came, calling us to live as did he, taking seriously the choices before us—seeking peace and reconciliation, going the extra mile in relationships, expanding our reach to include the broken and the forgotten, proclaiming God’s gracious care for all creation.
The story has it that Alexander Mack, leader of the Church of the Brethren in its beginning days in Germany in the early 1700s, was asked by one of his neighbors soon after that first baptism, “And how shall your members be recognized?” Mack’s response was clear: “By the manner of their living.” And ought that not still be true today, that by the manner of our living, by our seeking to walk in the footsteps of Jesus, we shall be known?
Years ago, on the occasion of the 250th anniversary of the Church of the Brethren, then-Annual Conference moderator Desmond Bittinger spoke of the marks of the Brethren this way:
Yet today, does that not remain our challenge, to live in such a way that others are drawn to relationship with the living Christ? It is a matter of developing character based upon Christ. It is a matter of entering fully into the Christ story, of living here and now as if God’s kingdom were fully present among us, allowing the Spirit of Christ to shape all that we say and do. Robert McAfee Brown once wrote of “the fatal error” of “read[ing] the Bible as a spectator rather than as a participant,” “the faulty assumption that we can sit in a box seat watching the drama when actually we are on the stage taking part in the drama.”
The first Brethren recognized this call to be active participants, even as the first hearers of the Sermon on the Mount sensed an unusual power in the words of Jesus. Indeed, Matthew tells us, when Jesus had completed the Sermon on the Mount, “the crowds were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority” (7:28-29). And what is the nature of that authority? Was it not that the people sensed that here was one who not only spoke words of power as a great teacher, but much more, here was one who lived his message to the fullest? And as time continued, those first hearers would discover just how far Jesus was willing to go, that they might grasp the message of life in God’s kingdom. Jesus gives himself to the utmost, Jesus shows himself to be a solid Rock, Jesus accepts the wrath of the religious leaders of the day and the fury of the state, dying on a cross. But the story does not end with death; Jesus is raised from death, and the Spirit empowers us to join with Jesus in embracing a new way of living.
Sisters and brothers, by the manner of our living, we shall be known. Together we are called to witness to the way of Christ. In a world that finds it logical to earmark $200 billion for a questionable war while hunger and poverty and injustice continue to abound, we are called to proclaim with Christ the way of peace. In a world that plays upon suspicion and fear, we are called to proclaim with Christ the way of self-giving love. And in a world of brokenness and division and pain, we are called to proclaim with Christ the way of healing and hope and reconciliation. By the manner of our living we shall be known as followers of the living Christ. Amen.
Everlasting God, Creator of each of us and of all of us, Creator of the ends of the earth, we come before you this day, grateful for the many ways we experience your renewing strength. In the midst of trials and struggles, your Spirit comes to us, upholding and encouraging us. In times when life seems out of control and we feel on life’s edge, how frequently you remind us of the promise that, as we wait, our strength is renewed. We can mount up with wings as eagles; we can run and not be weary; our fear is gone, and we can face the future with confidence.
Holy God, some of come today with special needs, yearning to know this kind of strengthening and renewing of our spirits. Some of us know the pain of brokenness in relationships, and hope beyond hope for healing and wholeness. Some of us know the dark night of the soul, bound in despair, and yearn for your light to break through. Some of us know persons serving in the military in Iraq and elsewhere, and are anxious for their safety. Whatever our needs this day, teach us the art of waiting, listening, and hoping for that day when we shall mount up with wings as eagles.
Gracious God, on this Memorial Day weekend we ache with those who grieve the loss of loved ones through war. And we yearn for that day when the world recognizes the wastefulness of war, and begins to raise its voice for peace. O God, may swords be beaten into plowshares, may hostile hearts be softened by your grace and love; may enemies be transformed into friends; may openness replace suspicion and fear; and may those policies that lead to mistreatment and torture come to an end.
Hear us now, loving God, as we pray for those in our midst in special need of your healing touch. We pray for . . . .
Lord of all living, be our rock and our refuge, our strength and our fortress, our hope and our peace. Amen.