Scripture Reading—Matthew 10: 34-38
“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.”
I want to begin this morning with a parable. There was once a country that sought to govern itself entirely according to the sacred writings of its people. These writings were stored in an ancient wooden box at the top of a mountain. From this vantage point, one could see the entire country—all of its cities, towns, and farmlands. It was believed that the sacred writings were placed on this mountain so that they could be read with a compassionate heart for all of the people in the land. One could not forget the lives and struggles of the people from the top of this mountain. The writings were meant for these people, and they became known as the People of the Mountain. From one generation to the next, they were guided by these writings to which they were deeply devoted.
On a good day when the air was clear and the sun was shining, the top of the mountain afforded an expansive view that extended beyond the borders of the Mountain People. On such a day, one could even see all the way to a neighboring country. Many believed that the sacred writings were to be read with a heart of compassion for those in this country as well. There were moments when this became a matter of utmost relevance. On one such occasion, this neighboring country was in grave danger. A military band was sweeping through its land taking one town after another. There was much debate over whether the People of the Mountain should intervene with their own warriors.
This was not the first time such a debate had arisen. Years before one leader had declared that the People of the Mountain were weary of war and that she believed there would be no military solution to the conflicts next door. Another leader declared that God had personally told him to end the tyranny of this other country. This time the leaders of the land were again divided. This time the People of the Mountain were determined to let their sacred writings guide them in making the right decision.
One of their leaders quickly climbed to the top of the mountain. He unlocked the ancient box and turned immediately to a page that read, “Do not believe that your future is one of peace. War is on the horizon.” He quickly proclaimed that the answer was clear. The feet of their warriors needed to tread on the ground of their neighboring country. Among those who heard him, a few snickered that this phrase about warriors treading on the ground of another country was a polite way of saying that some of their warriors would need to die. Among this crowd, not everyone was satisfied with the pronouncement, and so soon, one of them climbed to the top of the mountain. He unlocked the ancient box and turned immediately to a page that read, “Put down your weapons, because your weapons will lead to your destruction.” With that, a part of the crowd roared with approval, but it quickly became apparent that the matter had not been resolved.
Those who believed that the warriors needed to be sent continued to cite the first reading from the sacred writings. Likewise, those who believed that the warriors should not be sent continued to cite the second reading. A small minority began to assert that the sacred writings were useless because they could be used to support anything. And, then, there was one person who believed another response was needed altogether. As the people argued amongst themselves at the foot of the mountain, she climbed to its top and unlocked the ancient box. Soon, people in the crowd below started to point and gesture to her. Excitement swept through the crowd as one of them declared in a loud voice, “Let’s all go up there!” First, a few began to climb, and then others went until finally all of them were climbing to the top of the mountain.
Once everyone had arrived at the top, the woman said, “Let’s not only look out from the top of the mountain with hearts of compassion but let’s also read the sacred writings with compassionate hearts as well.” With that, she began to read the sacred writings from start to finish. As she read, the people murmured in tones of understanding as if they were truly hearing the writings for the first time. The writings told of their people. They told of their trials and tribulations as well their joys and triumphs. They told of their doubts and frustrations as well as their beliefs and convictions. For the first time, the People of the Mountain were able to not only hear the sacred writings in their entirety but also hear them with a sense of empathy. The result was that the sacred writings were no longer heard in snippets used as divine authorization for actions. They were instead heard as a story, a story that laid bare the humanity of a people yearning and struggling to live as one with God. Never before had the sacred writings made as much sense as they did now. The contradictions within the writings that had long caused trouble and confusion now became less troublesome if not understandable. What had previously been a quote or a saying used to rationalize one view or another was now seen as part of a much larger whole, a whole that was as diverse as the people of which it spoke.
As the light of the day began to fade, the woman finished reading. In the days ahead, there were still disagreements about what the sacred writings meant and there were still disagreements about what to do in response to the war in their neighboring country, but some crucial differences arose. When they read the sacred writings, they no longer looked for commands and mandates to be applied to their own lives. When they read, they instead sought to identify with the people of the story, allow themselves to agree and disagree, and most importantly, hold the people of the story with the same empathy, compassion, and understanding they desired for themselves. Likewise, when the People of the Mountain spoke and listened to each other, they now did so with a deep compassion, a sincere empathy, and a strong desire for understanding. The sacred writings had softened their hearts and changed their lives. In that way, the sacred writings became truly sacred. And with that the parable comes to a close.
This past week when I first approached our scripture for this morning I approached it with a sense of dread. I approached it as if I was hearing a sound bite from a politician. All I could hear was a voice saying over and over again, “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” I tried to prepare myself psychologically for the scripture by telling myself that I didn’t need to agree with it. That sentence was probably something thrown in there by a later editor of the Gospel of Matthew. Jesus would never have favored something as dumb as taking up arms against the Roman Empire. The Roman Empire had a monopoly on violence and any attempt to organize a rag tag band of armed Israelites against it would have been both futile and suicidal. There is nothing inspirational in that.
As I took a closer look at the scripture and its context, however, I began to have a different feeling about it. The general bent of Matthew is not toward violence. In fact, one commentator goes so far as to say that it is the most pacifistic book in the Bible. Consider the beatitudes that say, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” When Jesus summoned the disciples and instructed them on their mission and ministry, he encouraged them to share the spirit of peace in the homes in which they stayed. Finally, he directly contradicted the notion of brandishing a sword. After a disciple struck off the ear of a high priest’s slave, Jesus not only told the disciple to put his sword back in its place, he also said, “All who take the sword shall perish by the sword.” So it seems a little strange for the passage we read today to interject this part about Jesus arriving with a sword.
In addition to considering this bit about the sword within the context of Matthew as a whole, let’s also consider it within its immediate context. The first thing to notice is that it is sandwiched between indications that the Gospel of Matthew is speaking to victims and survivors of violence not perpetrators of violence. Earlier in the chapter Jesus says, “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.” And, then later in our passage comes what would at first seem to be an extreme paradox. After talking about his arrival with the sword, Jesus encourages his followers to take up the cross. Why would Jesus suggest carrying a sword only to then say that they should carry a cross as well? That would seem highly contradictory. But what if we are reading all of this the wrong way? What if we read this with an awareness that Matthew was writing in a post-Easter context in which the followers of Jesus had already experienced violence and death? It wouldn’t have made sense for the pre-Easter Jesus to talk about his followers carrying the cross. The cross would not have had any significance for them yet. However, the cross would have been of central significance after the crucifixion of not only Jesus but also others such as Simon Peter who was crucified in Rome at the hands of Emperor Nero.
What if we were to read our passage for today with a sense of compassion, empathy, and understanding for those early Christians and their story? When Jesus says, “For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother,” the message of the gospel here isn’t so much a prediction of what is going to happen as it is a reflection of what has already happened. As the biblical scholar John Dominic Crossan notes, the radically egalitarian message of Jesus in declaring a kingdom for “nobodies and undesirables” would have disrupted the patriarchal family structure of the time. This was a structure that made wives and children the property of master who headed the household. Those who decided to follow Jesus likely had to break with the oppressive constraints of their own families to do so.
One of the most plausible interpretations of Jesus’ declaration that he came not to bring peace but a sword is that Jesus was metaphorically talking about severing the ties that bound his followers within their own homes. Without such an interpretation, the reference to bringing a sword seems entirely out of place with the surrounding discussion of families breaking apart and followers picking up the cross. There might be other valid interpretations, and I am not convinced that finding what would seem to be the definitive interpretation is what matters most. I believe what matters most is the way we regard the scripture and the spirit with which we read it. Are we are reading it with empathy, compassion, and understanding? Are we reading it in a way that softens our hearts and transforms our lives? This is how we know that our sacred writings are truly sacred. Amen.