Sermon for the Tenth Sunday After Pentecost, Year C (8-17-25)

Well, for those of you who love punchy Jesus, today's your lucky day. And for those of you who don't, buckle up! Because today's gospel passage is doozie.

Knowing how important family is to many - and of the upmost importance to some - I won't try to soften these very challenging words of Jesus. Because to do so would be to undo the very point Our Savior is trying to make, I think. But what I will do is get right out in front of the glaring concern: No. Jesus is not anti-family. Jesus performed miracles to make families whole again. And even from the cross he made a family of his mother Mary and his disciple and friend John: "Here is your son, here is your mother."

Yes, once again we receive an invitation to be responsible bible scholars. To consider the broader context of this passage before running off with an interpretation fueled by only our offense, or perhaps even by our disgust at these sharp words.

So, what if I told you that the key to engaging with this passage is to consider it not so much through the lens of family, but through the lens of fire.

"I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!"Jesus says.

While we modern listeners primarily think of fire as a force of destruction, it's important to remember that fire can also be refining, and cleansing, and it can be transformative; images that would have likely come to mind easily for first-century listeners. Fire burning off dross to refine a precious metal, like gold being subjected to tremendous heat - precious as it is - to make it even more precious. Fire burning fields of straw after the wheat harvest in order to make way for new growth and new life in the coming season.

Fire to burn away hypocrisy and indifference, the fog of selfishness and deceit, or the weeds of abuse and oppression that keep God's people from thriving. And perhaps even fire to illuminate and refine our idols back into what they were originally meant for: money, sex, power, pleasure, reputation. And perhaps things so close to home as family.

Families are a great gift. They are critical for our flourishing whether they be born or chosen. But as likely every one of us in this room can attest, families can also be complicated. For some, families are not the site of flourishing we hope for. And for some yet, families can be the site of mistreatment - if not flat out abuse. 

Our Creator ordained the human family to be a fertile source of nurturing, and growth, and love, and protection - but only so far as God created anything else for our benefit. And all to the same ultimate end: to best bolster us for the worship, service, and love of that same God. 

But what happens when families are no longer loving or nurturing? What is the faithful thing to do when our families become cages instead of gardens? Sites of harm instead of places of refuge?

"What has straw in common with wheat? says the Lord. Is not my word like fire, says the Lord, and like a hammer that breaks a rock in pieces?" Jeremiah in his iconic way does not flinch from the difficult truth. That sometimes the things that are meant to feed us are no longer able to serve that purpose. Sometimes the earthly things that are supposed to be a firm foundation falter, and like rocks are broken. 

"Families are not ultimate ends in themselves, even though they are inherently valuable and worth protecting. Family loyalty is real and important, but cannot outweigh God’s call," one commentator writes. And what is God's call for us? What is it that is so important that it is worth threatening one of the cornerstones of our social existence? 

Truth.

In all things we are called to be agents of truth. And sometimes, truth burns.

I know for a fact that sitting in this very room are beloved children of God who for many complex and painful reasons have had to either make or accept some level of distance from family. In the name of truth. Their truth. 

The truth that they have inherent dignity and worth, and so will no longer be mistreated or abused. The truth that God in no uncertain terms tells us that we are each others' keepers, and so political realities reveal deep, unreconcilable ethical differences. And perhaps even the truth that God's call through the Gospel of Jesus Christ does demand everything from us. Everything. Including handing over our idols even when that idol might be a family that pictures itself as of the ultimate importance.

I know that this searing reality of distance and brokenness is present here for many. And please know that I am one of them, too. I get it. And it burns, doesn't it? Truth has a funny way of doing that. But on the other side of the refining process, please know that something more precious awaits. It may be reunion and reconciliation. Or it may be a new-found sense of family straight from the bosom of the Almighty and mediated by people like you. A new, chosen family of faith. But more than anything know that Jesus sees it. And Jesus gets it because Jesus himself lived in this truth. That we are made for God, and for God alone.

So, if you are one of us who has made the impossible choice to lean into distance in order to be closer to truth, please know that Jesus blesses that. And he is proud of you. And he will continue to give you what you need to live into that truth.

Jesus is not anti-family. Not even a little bit. But Jesus is pro-truth at any cost.  He put his life on the line for it. And the life he still lives - in that same truth - is yours for the taking.

Amen.