Looking forward, with a gaze of our own

This is a sermon preached by Pamela Pianezza - some time ago, it must be admitted - but relevant today as then! :-)

Text: Luke 9:51-62

When the days drew near for Jesus to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. And he sent messengers ahead of him.

On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem.

When his disciples James and John saw it, they said, "Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?" But he turned and rebuked them.

Then they went on to another village.

As they were going along the road, someone said to him, "I will follow you wherever you go."

And Jesus said to him, "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head."

To another he said, "Follow me."

But he said, "Lord, first let me go and bury my father." But Jesus said to him, "Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God."

Another said, "I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home."

Jesus said to him, "No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God. »

Looking forward, with a gaze of our own

The text we just heard tells us about the exact moment when Jesus decided to get back on the road, after a very busy time in Galilee. In only a few months, he’s been baptized, he’s been preaching, he’s been healing people who were thought to be incurable, he has chosen twelve people to become apostles and sent them to mission, he’s been recognized by many as the son of God…

He’s already done a lot. And he could probably do more, say more, heal more people, share the good news to a wider audience…

A part of me always wanted Jesus to go on with what we call his « ministry in Galilee ». Not for ever, obviously, but just a little bit. Like kids - or grown-ups - who ask for « just 5 more minutes » of reading or watching their favorite show before turning the light off and accepting to surrender to darkness, even temporarily.

Just a little bit of time, to do just a bit more of all those things we haven’t had time to do, to see a tiny bit more of those we have neglected because of lives too busy, or those we love so much we never have enough of them… Just an extra moment to enjoy the view, the landscape or to smell the roses… It is hard to move on from what we love, from what and who we care about, whom we worry about. It is also hard to move on from what we know, what has become comfortable, reassuring, familiar.

Change is hard. Movement is hard, sometimes even painful, literally. And because it involves the body, the mind, the heart, it can hurt in many places.

Change is hard for those who leave, but let’s not forget those who stay and that’s probably why the first wannabe disciple we meet says to Jesus : « I will follow you wherever you go. »

Beautiful promise, isn’t it ? And I’m sure it was said with heart, and sincerity.

The same sincerity Peter showed when he promised Jesus : “Even if all the others reject you, I never will!” (Matt, 26, 33) Peter couldn’t keep his word after everything went sour. Three times he denied knowing and loving Jesus. But This does not detract from his sincerity…

Let us slip for a few minutes into the shoes of this wannabe disciple, who seems ready to follow Jesus wherever he goes. He doesn’t have a name, by the way, which means there’s enough space for all  of us in his words. 

Imagine… The Son of God, the Messiah, the bearer of hope in a chaotic world, has been with us. He taught us stories that have already transformed our lives, he ate at our table. And now, he’s leaving. Can we let him go ? And what would it mean, if we accept to say goodbye? Would we go back to our ancient lives ? Would hope remain without the one who brought it ? Would we let him go or would we dare to say : « I will follow you wherever you go. »

And even if we felt adventurous enough to follow the one we love, would we remain so sure of ourselves if what he replied to us was:

« Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head. »

I would probably take it as an attempt to discourage me. Especially if right after declining my offer,  my oath of fidelity, my declaration of love, the one I love and consider my friend, my rabbi, had said to another : « Follow me. »

I would maybe even conclude that some of us are better equipped than others to be followers of Jesus. But I would be mistaken

Luke presents us three unknown wannabe disciples. Two offer to follow Jesus and seem to be rebuked. One is asked by Jesus himself to join him, but this lucky one seems to have other priorities. None of them are named and we don’t know what any of them will chose in the end : to leave everything they know and follow Jesus right away, or to spend a little bit more time with their families, their homes, on the land where their ancestors are buried.

We don’t know, because the gospel is about freedom and I think this is precisely what Jesus is telling those three applicants to apprenticeship : they are free. Free to follow him or not, of course, but not only that. They are free from traditions, from the law, from family imperatives, work imperatives, social imperatives…

We’ve done a lot, in our very recent times, to emancipate ourselves from suffocating imperatives, from all those attacks on human dignity (patriarchy, colonialism, homophobia, rejection of the other, the stranger…), by people or institutions often claiming to be followers of the Bible. And I think the Episcopal church, with other sister churches, is especially active on this front. But imagine what social imperatives were looking like, in the times of Jesus… What it took to be a woman and a follower of Jesus. To be a widow, a leper, a tax collector whose salary was paid by the roman empire and a follower of Jesus…

By reminding those three characters and trough them, by reminding every one of us, what it takes to be a disciple, Jesus offers us the gift of freedom. We are not asked to abandon our families, our work, our territories, our nest. We are offered the possibility, the freedom to redefine our relationship with them.

We don’t give up our mother and father or the people who raised us the moment we reach the age of majority. We can, if we want too, but no-one is asking such a drastic thing from us, especially not Jesus. What we gain, when we really become adult — which sometimes happened much much later than when we turn 18 — is the freedom, the autonomy to set our priorities right. We gain the possibility to look forward with a gaze of our own, relieved of glasses or filters that do not belong to us, but belong to our families, our communities, our surroundings, even the most loving ones… Glasses or filters that are sometimes imposed by the law in countries, in places where the law wasn’t written for the people, but against them, or against some of them.

By reminding us what it takes to be a disciple of Christ, a king with « nowhere to lay his head », Jesus also reveals to us what the kingdom of God looks like and why we can call him Lord, « Seigneur », without fear of being alienated, enslaved.

In contract law we speak of « informed consent », which is essential for a commitment to be deemed valid. Despots do not seek the informed consent of their subjects. True kings do. They don’t tell us whatever we would like to hear, whatever would convince us to follow them, whatever would be reassuring or flattering. They tell us what really is, the good, the bad and the ugly, but they also show us the way forward. True kings, true shepherds, always show us the path to a life lived to the fullest, no matter what obstacles lie along the way.

For many reasons, I took those verses from the gospel of Luke, Jesus hitting the road again, as a personal gift. The most obvious reason is that I too, am back on the road. In less than a few days, I too will be leaving places and people I love and trust, for a new home, a new city, where everything is still unknown to me. The list of what I’ll be missing is… far too long. And it scares me.

But I know you know what it feels. In a few months, Paul and Eleanor will leave our beautiful Auvergne for the United States. Our priest in charge, Bishop Catherine, is here with us only because she is adventurous enough to accept to cross the Atlantic, putting miles between her and her family, her grandson. Many of you also come from other cities, other countries, other continents… We know and experienced how much change and movement are part of life but we are also regularly reminded that it comes at a cost. So when Jesus says : « Let the dead bury their own dead », here is what I hear : « stay on the side of the living, keep moving, be it with your body, with your mind, with your heart, with your imagination…

« No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God », says Jesus. It will always be tempting, easier, to look backward, magnetized by the past, like Elisha asking to go back one more time to his parents before following his new master, the prophet Elijah or like Orpheus, who could have saved his beloved Eurydice from the land of the dead if he had kept his promise to only look forward.

 « Let the dead bury their own dead »…

This is our mission, if we accept it : to keep moving, to keep looking forward, with  our precious gift : a gaze of your own.