Matthew 10.24-39 Jesus said to the twelve disciples, “A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household!
“So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. 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.
“Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.
“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. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”
Reflection Jaundiced air envelops the scene. A barren desert scape blown dry by lethal winds bearing dusty devils brings no consolation. The majesty of mountains that usually glorify this desolation is shrouded beneath a burial cloak of black and orange smoke crowned with ashen billows.
“Oh God, what is happening to our world? I am driving through a post apocalyptic movie set. Everywhere I look the world is on fire. Not only the Bighorn fire in front of me but also the Sawtooth and Mangum fires at my back. Not only forest fires but also viral fires leaping from unsuspecting host to host, inciting disease and dealing death. Not only Covid-19 but also protesters and provocateurs, champions of change inciting protectors of the status quo. O God, this moment moans with pain, pain so great we are all groaning.”
Rapt in this apocalyptic apprehension while driving from Phoenix to Tucson an audible groan escaped my gut riding a river of tears. This is world pain, weltschmerz, a great German word that speaks to the collective pain experienced during times of extended conflict and transition. Today the pain I feel is greater than my own.
I groan with the many blameless police as well as their several brutal colleagues, for the pain that inflames all of them.
I groan with the peaceful protesters calling for an end to ethnic violence as well as their agitated provocateurs, for the pain that inflames all of them.
I groan with the conscientious folk sacrificing their pleasures to cut short Covid-19 as well as with those who due to need or desire exercise their right to act as they choose, for the pain that inflames all of them.
I groan with all creatures, the earth and the air, for the pain that inflames all of them.
James Baldwin, an African American novelist, was one of the twentieth century’s greatest writers especially known for his essays on the black experience in the United States. Baldwin writes, “Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.”
Driving from Phoenix to Tucson I stumbled into everything I have been afraid to face; the depth and breadth of pain that is inflaming every person, group, institution, government and country today. I fear for our way of life. I fear that we cannot breath and be who we are. I am afraid to open my mind and my heart to consciously experience the depths of this personal and collective pain; weltschmerz.
How are we to be with this pain? When the world as we have known it is replaced by an apocalyptic movie set do we welcome the pain, anger, resentment and confusion as invitations to venture deep inside ourselves and experience Divine wisdom hidden within? Probably not our first go to. If we are honest we are more likely to eat, drink, do drugs, binge watch Netflix or even meditate seeking something pleasurable to avoid the strong emotions. When we have no idea what is going on or how things are going to turn out, do we welcome this as an opportunity for something new and better to emerge? or do look for someone or something to blame, or make ourselves the guilty ones?
When we shut ourselves off from experiencing reality as it is, we disconnect our selves from wisdom, which is the Holy Spirit present with us. When we are disconnected Jesus’ words make no sense. “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Jesus brings a sword because we need it to poke and to prod us, to unmask the ways we run from reality.
Jesus brings a sword to uncover our preference to look for someone to blame (including ourselves), rather than welcome the discomfort of our anxiety, fear, resentment and uncertainty.
Jesus brings a sword to vanquish our desire to recreate the way things were rather than wait in uncertainty for something new to be conceived.
Jesus brings a sword to turn us around to face ourselves and the fullness of our humanity. And I recoil.
I recoil because I feel vulnerable. I feel vulnerable because there is a soft spot in my belly that churns as I live through the desolating apocalypse of mysterious virus, insidious fires, protests and provocateurs, violence and threats of more. I feel vulnerable because there is a soft spot in my heart where I am connected to every person, plant and place. This soft spot is the fullness of my humanity, the tender site of of divine presence with me that weeps with every burnt twig and mourning mother.
This is the place I am loath to face because the spring of living water that Jesus brings there bears not only his incomprehensible peace but also every droplet of world pain. Still James Baldwin’s words echo in my soul, “Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.”
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