Sermon for Sunday, June 30: 6th Sunday after Pentecost

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Luke 9

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith 

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

So a priest, 2 Lutheran pastors, a political activist, a former missionary, 2 preacher’s kids, and an Archbishop of the Syriac Orthodox Church walk into a suburban steakhouse, and the bartender says…

I don’t actually have a punchline, but doesn’t that sound like the beginning of an excellent joke?

This was actually the scene last week, when my spouse Robert invited me to join him for a dinner with Archbishop Jean Kawak of Damascus, Syria. Bishop Kawak was scheduled to speak at a Lutheran Church in Barrington (an event which fifteen Bethany members also made time to attend—thank you!) and I was grateful to have the opportunity to chat with him at dinner beforehand.

To be fair, even the bartender had probably seen men in a clergy collar before, although perhaps not so many at one table. But it was the archbishop who made quite the impression in that little steakhouse. He wore a long black cassock and had a thick gray beard. Around his neck was a chain on which hung a large, ornate, filigreed icon of the Virgin Mary and the infant Jesus. And on his head was a black cap, embroidered with many small white crosses, covering his ears and the sides of his face. All around us, people were trying to find a polite way to stare, especially as the waitress brought a tray of beer and set it in front of this odd group of diners.

While we waited for the food to arrive, and of course always being interested clergy apparel, I decided to just go ahead and ask the bishop about the icon and the cap.

The icon, he explained carefully, was Mary and Jesus. 

I knew that part, I assured him!

He went on to explain that wearing it signified he was an archbishop. A regular bishop would be wearing a large cross instead.

And the cap, he said, had many meanings. The twelve small crosses were to represent the twelve disciples. The larger one, in the middle, represented Jesus Christ himself. And the entire cap wraps around the side of the head, covering the ears and the sides of the face, said the bishop, to remind him that a disciple must not listen to the other voices of the world, or look to the right or to the left, but should keep one’s head pointed straight ahead, listening to and following where Christ alone leads.

The image of Bishop Kawak’s little black hat was in my mind’s eye as I read the Gospel text for this week, in which Jesus tells a would-be follower: “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” Luke chapter 9 tells us about three people who had the opportunity to follow Jesus on his journey to Jerusalem. One is eager to follow, but seems to back off when she hears the true nature of the trip. One is invited by Jesus himself, but he asks to go home and take care of other responsibilities first. And the third volunteers to enlist as a disciple, but wants to go home for some last good-byes.

And Jesus replies, in no uncertain terms: “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” No one who looks to the right or to the left, who listens to the noise of the world, who looks back and longs for the good old days, or who wants to keep other options open, is fit to follow Jesus. 

If I could choose a theme song for this passage from the 9^th chapter of Luke, it would be the folk tune “Gospel Plow”, sung by the likes of Bob Dylan and Mahalia Jackson, which proclaims: “Keep your hand on the plow, hold on.”     

Jesus says to all who would follow him: “Keep your hand on the plow and hold on!” Those of you who gathered to hear Bishop Kawak speak last week got a sense of just how serious these words are for Christians in Syria today. The few Christian families who are left in Damascus struggle for work, for food, for an education for their children, and for safety. Churches have been bombed. Religious leaders havebeen kidnapped. Many families have already fled the country. But Bishop Kawak has told us that he will not leave. He will stay in Damascus—in a city where Saints Paul and Thomas are said to have lived, in a country which is called the cradle not only of Christianity but of civilization—until there are no more Christian families left, or until he himself is killed.

Bishop Kawak has decided to keep his hand on the plow, and to hold on. Hold on to his community. Hold on to the vision of a Syria where Christians and Muslims can again live in peace. Hold on to his faith in God and in Jesus Christ, who promises to be with us, even to the end of the age. God be with him, and with his community. Amen.

For most of us, following Jesus is much less costly. Our decision to be a Christian might mean choosing between denominations, choosing the best Sunday school or youth program, or choosing the early or late service. It means choosing to sit here on a wooden pew for a 10 minute sermon, over sitting at a table for brunch or getting a few extra hours of sleep on your only day off. As difficult as these decisions can feel on any given Sunday, as we approach our country’s Independence Day, we would do well to remember that having such choices available to us is a freedom that not all people enjoy.

And yet, I know there are costs for you, too. Some of you are here at the protest of your spouse or partner. Some of you have left the church of your youth to find a home in a more welcoming community. Even if you haven’t suffered violence or overt harassment because of your faith, some of you have experienced quieter forms of discrimination, sometimes even at the hands of other Christians whose paths seem paved with certainty.  Anyone who has joined in God’s mission to feed the hungry, house the homeless, heal the sick, and to work for justice and peace for the whole people of God has at one time or another prayed with the psalmist: “How long, O Lord? How long shall my enemies be exalted over me?” (Psalm 13) I know, sisters and brothers, that there are days in your discipleship journey when the only way to place one foot in front of the other is to sing along with Bob or Mahalia: “Keep your hand on the plow, and hold on!”

There is an old proverb that says: "When you get to your wit's end, remember that God lives there."

To that point, preacher and professor Alyce McKenzie writes:

“And it's a good thing, too. Because it's not natural to pursue long and arduous journeys with unflagging bravery and energy. It's not humanly possible to keep on plowing, keep on proclaiming the kingdom of God without looking back.”

Did you hear that? It’s not natural to do what Jesus asks. It’s not in our nature! And that’s the point: We are weak, but he is strong! We could never make the walk to Jerusalem on our own. But it is Jesus, crucified and risen, who calls us to something greater. Jesus calls us to follow him, and the Holy Spirit empowers us to persist in times of doubt and uncertainty, to withstand persecution, to speak truth to power, to keep the faith, and to keep our hands on the plow and hold on.

Some days, it feels like too much. Some days, we feel we just can’t go on. It’s only natural for us to look back, to second-guess, and to question the wisdom of following this man called Jesus.

And that, sisters and brothers, is why we need the saints.

We need the company of the saints, past and present, who have been this way before, who have paved the path we now trod, who have run and not grown weary, who have walked and not been faint.

We look to the saints to lead the way:

Mary Magdalene, the first to share the Good News of the resurrection when others scoffed; 

Paul and Silas, who persisted through imprisonment and persecution; 

Martin and Katie Luther, standing firm on the promises of Christ our king; 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, risking everything for what he knew was right, following Jesus even to the gallows;

  

Dorothy Day, who lived her life among the poor of New York City, laying one brick at a time in the fight against poverty and hunger; 

Martin Luther King, Jr. and all the civil rights prophets, who dreamed that all whom God created has created equal would be treated as such in schools, in courts of law, and in the voting booth; 

And this week we look to Nelson Mandela, anti-apartheid activist, ex-prisoner, and former president of South Africa, who even now is nearing the end of his earthly journey. Along with each of the others I mentioned, Mandela would certainly balk at being called a saint. “I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying,” he once said.

Whether saint or sinner, Nelson Mandela stands as one among many who kept his hands on the plow and held on, pushing forward against unimaginable opposition, keeping his eyes on the prize of freedom, justice, and equality for all of God’s children.

My sisters and brothers in Christ, discipleship is costly. It requires a single-mindedness and focus that we do not possess on our own. Like the would-be followers in today’s Gospel text, we may find ourselves eager to follow but easily discouraged; we may hear the call of Christ but feel the tug of other responsibilities and priorities; we may even take our place at the plow and then struggle to hold on to the faith. It’s only natural.

But even so, Christ calls you to follow him! He calls you—with Bishop Kawak of Damascus, and with Mavis, Gene, Kim, Konrad, and Sharon of Bethany Lutheran in Crystal Lake—to join him on the journey, looking neither right nor left, but keeping your eyes only on him. Through the power of the cross—and in the company of the saints—our Lord will guide us into all truth. Go, and proclaim the kingdom of God! Amen.