Jeremiah 23:23-29
Hebrews 12:1-7(8-10)11-14
Luke 12:49-56
Psalm 82
"Do you think that I ‘ve come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!" When I read that, I thought, "Oh, come on, Jesus - why do you have to be so confusing and difficult?" "You're supposed to be the Prince of Peace." We just got through singing about Peace on Earth and the epistle to Hebrews says we're supposed to seek peace with everyone. So what gives???
After all, whenever he dropped in on his disciples, after his resurrection, the first thing he always said was, "Peace be with you." so how are we supposed to make sense of all this? It sounds like the campaign double talk the presidential candidates are accusing each other of ... as the allegations are slung back and forth that this one says this and then he says that, and the other does one thing and then he does another. What's anyone supposed to believe anymore? And I find myself complaining to Jesus, "You know, when you go around saying that you didn't come to bring peace, it sure doesn't seem to me that you're helping much!" So how do we sort it out?
As I pondered that question over the past week or two, I was reminded of something that happened many years ago - when I was a very small child, living at the farm while my mom was in the hospital. I loved being at the farm.. It was always such a peaceful and happy place, even if there wasn't much money around.
But there was one particular autumn at the farm that was anything but peaceful. I was five years old. And it doesn't take a five-year old long to pick up on the fact that something is wrong. My grandfather was much quieter than usual. And my normally busy and happy grandmother was not singing hymns while she worked in the kitchen. My aunt was increasingly impatient, and my uncle wore a frown that I'd never seen before. My older cousins, who were usually remarkably patient with a tag-a-long little cousin just shushed me when I tried to ask questions. .
The farm was located in the northeastern corner of Missouri. It was 1950, and segregation was the order of the day. Late that summer a black family had bought and moved into a lovely old home on the far edge of town - so there weren't any close neighbors. But it wasn't located in what was referred to as "colored town" - the part of town where black people were supposed to live. Some white folks began to grumble about this family moving into "our part" of town. And as the drought that summer continued into the fall and the economy got worse, tempers grew shorter - and the grumbling turned into something more sinister.
Soon none of the local merchants would sell to this family - although they had money to pay for their purchases. Neither of the gas stations would sell gas to the man so that he could get to work. Now my grandfather was never one to make much of a fuss about things. He was a very gentle man who just did what he believed was right in the eyes of Jesus. So one day he went to town, taking milk and eggs and vegetables with him. He went to Willy's grocery store and bought staples and some other things . He stopped at Ross's gas station and filled an old fuel can with gas. And then he drove right up to the house where the black family lived, and offered them everything. They insisted on paying, and before long an arrangement was worked out.
Every Saturday, Grandpa would bring things from home, buy things from town and then take them to the family. They would pay him, and give him a list of things they needed for the next week. But before long, scary things started happening. Threatening notes were left in our mailbox at the end of the lane. Some people were rude to Grandma and Auntie Lou when they went to town - and one day my cousin, Richard, came home with a real shiner. God only knows what was happening to the members of the black family.
Tempers began to rise at home. My Grandma was scared that Grandpa would be hurt - the Klan was active in that area of the state, and they could get ugly. Auntie Lou was worried sick about my cousins who were getting more and more harassment at school, and Uncle Dick was torn - he agreed with my grandfather, but he was also worried and scared for us kids. I'd hear them saying things to Grandpa like: "Can't you just let it alone?" "Why do you have to GO there?" "It's not our fight. We just need to stay out of it." Grandpa would sigh and say, "It's just the right thing to do." He'd try to reassure everyone, but it didn't help much. Tensions grew until there were actually several loud arguments between Grandma and Grandpa - something I thought could never happen - and something that never did happen except during that hot, dusty autumn so long ago.
Then one night I woke up enough to hear some scuffling outside in the yard. I fell back asleep and didn't wake again until I heard my aunt screaming early the next morning. One of Uncle Dick's prize pigs had been killed and left on the front porch. It wasn't hard to figure out that the Klan was angry, and was determined to make Grandpa stop helping that family.
The next day was Saturday, and despite very loud protests from everyone, my Grandpa quietly got into his car to make his weekly journey to town. When he got to the house where the family had lived it was empty, and there was a note tacked on the door. The note thanked him and blessed him for his love and courage in helping them. It also said that they could not remain any longer, as they would not be the cause of harm to our family. Grandpa brought the note home - and everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief. Things could finally return to normal, and peace would prevail again. Peace would prevail again. But what kind of peace was it?
I think Jesus is saying that it's that kind of peace that he wants no part of. I think he's saying, "Do you think I came to smooth things over and make everything nice so that some folks can feel comfortable while others are still hungry or homeless or (fill in the blank)? " I think he's saying, "I've come to rock the boat, to shake things up, and to confront those things that are just plain wrong!"
Peace built on the oppression of others is not peace. Peace that excludes anyone is not peace. Peace that forgets that every human being, no matter who they are or what they've done, is a child of God is not peace.
How often are we tempted to look the other way so that no feathers are ruffled and no one will get mad or angry? How often are we tempted to just "keep the peace?" I know I am, more often than I'd care to admit. In my Grandmother or my aunt or my uncle's shoes, I'm not at all sure I wouldn't have reacted exactly the same way they did .
Our psalmist, this morning, spells it out pretty clearly - what God expects of us.
We're supposed to:
Save the weak and the abandoned,And that's what my grandfather believed he was doing. But there was a price paid for what he did:
Defend the humble and needy,
Rescue the weak and the poor,
And deliver them from the power of the wicked.
Family members were frightened and angry and confused.. People who loved one another fought and said hurtful things to each other. Several lifelong friendships were destroyed, The Klan moved in, and I thank God that no one was seriously hurt or killed. And it took years for some folks in the community to speak to anyone in our family again.
And yet - it seems to me that Jesus is indeed the true Prince of Peace, and that he does want to bring peace on earth - but he wants a holy and just peace.
When I think about it that way, I find myself wondering, "just what am I willing to do to c help Jesus make that kind of peace come to pass? How far am I willing to go to follow Jesus?"
The next time we find ourselves thinking, " I don't want to make waves, I just want to keep the peace," we might do well to ask ourselves - "just what kind of peace is it that I want to keep? "
AMEN