Dear Friends,
When we think about the stories of our faith, I think many of us find that there are a few key categories. There are those stories, those pieces of scripture, that are so essential that we may have internalized them as children. Indeed, in the Gospels, we even find that the same stories are reiterated by different writers so that we might hear them repeatedly in these varied voices. Other passages are widely quoted outside of scripture – try to escape Psalm 23 or 1 Corinthians 13. We don’t have to read them every year to encounter them at least that often. And then, of course, there are pieces of scripture, ranging from the drone of the ‘begats’ to the overlapping emotional appeals found throughout the Old Testament that may fade into the background.
This week, as I sat down to write, I was struck by the contents of the Gospel reading because not only is it a passage that consistently stands out upon reading – “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword” – but because I remember writing about it here.
Back in June of 2020, this newsletter was just a few months old. The pandemic was really just beginning (and I was recovering from a first intense infection with it). I was a volunteer at a small parish and lived on the other side of the state from where I live now. It was a strange and scary time and I think that this Gospel reading felt particularly on the nose. Anxiety and “unprecedented times” aren’t good for unity and realistically things have only gotten worse. So, what are we supposed to do with this passage now, a full lectionary cycle later?
Don’t Forget The Sparrows
“I have not come to bring peace but a sword.”
These are scary words and words that don’t sound like the Jesus we know. But the words that come before them sound precisely like Jesus - “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.” Echoing the passage just a few chapters before also in the Gospel of Matthew, we are reminded how beloved we are, how cared for.
The birds of the air, the sparrows, are inextricably linked to the God of love, and so are we, but in our greater belovedness we also hold greater responsibility. The sword that divides us divides us because we speak the power of Jesus’s name to those we love – and they may not travel with us as followers of His word. And yes, we are told in this passage that we must choose the God who saves us over those who live beside us, it is because of how great that love is. We must try to love God even half as much as God loves us, and that is a love that is greater than can exist between us and those who are closest to us on this mortal plane.
Here’s what’s missing in this passage, though: the great joy, the companionship and rejoicing, when we speak God’s love and find ourselves walking alongside others who do the same.
I am writing this tired, fresh off of the Godly Play North America Conference, where I gathered with friends old and new, in close circles of love. And so much of what is rejuvenating and wonderful about being together is how we speak a shared language of love for God, for each other, for the communities we serve, for the children we work with. And one way that we speak that love is in song.
Led by folks from Music that Makes Community, we sang ourselves into a particular kind of intentional gathering. And since heading home, I’ve been tapping into that energy. Much of the music my wife and I love best from the world of folk music are songs meant to build up shared circles of peace. These songs are part of my day to day, but this track, which shares many musical traits with these other spaces (likely because they all have some Rise Up Singing overlap) is We Shall Be Known -
This song begins, “We shall be known by the company we keep” – and in many ways, isn’t that what the Gospel says this week? We shall be known in heaven by whether, when we profess God’s name and love, we choose to continue on alongside those who reject that love, or instead find our way alongside others who “lead in love.”
Say It Again – Forget The Words
The option of peace or sword, particularly when presented by the Prince of Peace, will always come across as stark, frightening, out of character, but it is just a few lines amidst the overall sending of the disciples. Just before this passage Jesus tells the disciples that when they come to others with the word of God, that this is the Spirit speaking through them. The same remains true. We can remain alongside those who not only refuse to accept this great love, but choose to contend endlessly with them, or find our way to profess God’s love to the world. And remember, of course, St. Francis: “Preach the Gospel at all times; when necessary, use words.”
When we are the ones who tend the fire, who work for change, who act in love, we are still speaking God’s love to the world. And those who return that love in action, even if they do not cite God in it, are ultimately doing the same. This is the gap in the text, the part that is hard to see. How we live is how we profess God’s love to others and the same is true of those who live alongside us of every creed.
The birds of the air do not speak the name of God to proselytize, but show God’s hand through their beauty, their simple existence in which they are cared for by the God of all creation. Let us do the same.
Peace,
Bird