Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30 "Of Children's Games and Oxen Yokes"

        You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly! 

         “Mom….Mom…Mom!”

         “What?”

         “I’m bored!”

         Who among us has not heard a child somewhere, sometime, using the “B” word – and using it in that whiney voice that children have been perfecting since the very beginning of time?

         “Mom!  I’m bored.”

         It is summertime, and the livin’ is easy.  School is out, but not many days have passed before it begins.

         “Mom!  I’m bored!  There’s nothing to do.”

         “Why don’t you go outside and play?”

         “It’s too hot!”

         “Then sit by the fan and read a book.”  (PAUSE)

         “Mom!  I’m bored!”

         It is like those fickle boys and girls that Jesus was talking about, the ones trying to decide on a game as they sat around in an ancient Capernaum marketplace.  “We played the pipe for you, and you did not dance.  We sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.”

         However, in this passage that we just read, Jesus is really not talking about children in a marketplace unable to choose between pretending to be brides and grooms, pallbearers and gravediggers.  He is talking about his generation of fellow Jews, all of them awaiting a Messiah that was both big enough to save them from the imperial domination system of the Roman Empire that was crushing them economically and socially and yet small enough to neatly fit into a box that was understandable, manageable, and, above all, satisfying.

         And in these verses we just read, Jesus – in his usual blunt manner - accuses his listeners of not being content with anyone God might have sent to help them out of the predicament God understood them to be in.  God just could not seem to get it right – from their perspective, that is.

         First, there had been John the Baptist.  Now he was a real loser – running around like a mad man predicting in his fiery rhetoric the most dire doomsday imaginable:  The end is near!  The end is near!  Repent, or every single one of you will be swept up off the proverbial threshing floor and burned like the leftover chaff when the wheat is milled.

         And the outfit he wore?  A tunic made of rough camel hair?  Now that was really over the top.  I mean, come on, how comfortable can that be?  Besides, John did not even eat like a normal human being.  When he was not fasting, he was noshing on insects.  And I heard tell that he never once touched a drop of wine.  That John was way too stern and serious.

         Surely such an oddball freak – not to mention such a dour, down-in-the-dumps one – surely such an oddball freak could not be speaking the word of God to them.  After all, they were the chosen people.   “We sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.”

         And now there was this itinerant rabbi, Jesus.  He wore a normal dusty, dirty robe with a splattering of last night’s dinner speckling its front – no camel hair, at least.  And he did not do the locusts and wild honey diet either, but, really, the people he ate with?  Definitely the wrong sort:  you know, from the other side of the tracks - most of them being drunkards and gluttons. 

         And we all know that birds of a feather flock together.  Dour, down-in-the-dumps John may have been a teetotaler, but that Jesus?  Why, I heard tell that once he did not have enough wine to drink at a wedding, and so he made more – six big jugs of it - from purified water, no less.  Bet he had a headache the next morning after that little binge.

         And besides, Jesus laughs too much.  He smiles at and actually seems to enjoy little children.  And all he ever does is tell stories. He makes religion seem like a joyful thing.  

         Surely such an oddball freak – not to mention such a gentle and humble at heart one – surely such an oddball freak could not be speaking the word of God to them.  After all, they were the chosen people.  “We played the pipe for you, and you did not dance.”

         You cannot win for losing!  That is for sure.  “Nothing satisfies this generation,” Jesus declared.  “I mean,” he pointed out, “there just seem to be an awful lot of bystanders and critics sitting around calling out the shortcomings of anyone God might have sent and all the while awaiting a Messiah that meets their own narrow and downright silly expectations.”

         Open your eyes, O fickle generation!  Open your hearts to embrace God’s passion for the world!  Throw your narrow and downright silly expectations for the Messiah out the window, and see that Jesus – this laughing, humble, gentle, wide-eyed lover of life embodies God’s dream for us.  This man Jesus is all that God hopes we will someday be. 

         And if God’s dream for the world is to come true someday (and face it, we are a long way from that particular truth), then surely we will need to change our tune.  As Lutheran pastor, Joshua Villines, noted, “It means changing the way we see ourselves, it means changing the way we see other people, and it means changing the way we live our lives. That’s takes a lot of effort.”

          When it comes to change, you see, we all carry a lot of baggage.  When it comes to change, we are all burdened, and we are all heavy-laden. Just like the final verses in this passage point out.    These are verses that, at first reading, seem so disconnected from the image of children playing in the marketplace.  However, if we read them in their entirety and if we affirm that as Christians, as followers of Jesus, he challenges us to walk his way, to embody in our own lives the precious dream of God that he is, then these final verses are none other than the very foundation of our hope that – somehow, sometime - we will indeed usher in God’s reign of compassionate love along with that peace which passes all our understanding.

         There is a little known legend about Jesus in the years before his public ministry, those decades that our four Gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John - tell us nothing about. The legend claims that Jesus was not only a carpenter, but he was one of the master yoke-makers in the Nazareth area. People came from miles around for a yoke hand carved and crafted by Joseph’s talented son.

         When customers arrived with their team of oxen, Jesus would spend so much time measuring the team, their height, the width, the space between them, and the size of their shoulders. Within a week, the teamster would return with his beasts of burden, and Jesus would carefully place the newly made yoke over their shoulders, watching for rough places, smoothing out the edges, and fitting the yoke perfectly.

         It is a lovely legend, I think, because it directs us to the yoke Jesus invites us to take, the one he speaks of in our passage.  “For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. 

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”

         However, do not be fooled or lulled into complacency by the word “easy” that so many Bible translations use.  You see, the root word in Greek refers to tailor-made yokes.  So – what Jesus is really saying is this:  “My yoke is well-fitting.”

         The yoke Jesus invites us to take, the yoke that brings rest to our weary souls, is one that is made exactly to our lives and hearts. The yoke he invites us to wear fits us well, neither does it rub us nor cause us to develop sore spirits.  Most of all, the yoke is designed for two. And our yoke-partner, of course, is none other than the Messiah himself.

         However, be aware that Jesus is not letting us off the hook when it comes to the heavy baggage and burdens we bear.  As Methodist pastor, Curtis Goforth notes, “Jesus is using the language of plowing here, of yoking two animals together so that they can get some work done. Notice Jesus doesn’t say to us, ‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. For my mattress is made of space-age foam and my pillow is soft and smells like lavender and eucalyptus.’ Jesus doesn’t promise anything about removing work from those who come to him. But he does promise rest to them.”

         Goforth goes on to say: “When Jesus says to ‘take my yoke upon you, and learn from me’ he is not simply telling us to listen to his words because there might be a pop quiz next week. A better way of translating the Greek here “learn from me” might be something to the effect of “be my apprentice” or even “be my yoke mate.” Jesus isn’t telling us to simply listen to his words but to learn from his actions and to work along side him—the same way an apprentice watches the master and learns how to do his craft. We are to watch the way Jesus operates so that we might see how to operate.”

         There will always be fields to plow.  There will always be Kingdom work to be done.  And there will always be times when the fields and the work seem endless, when our lives pull us in too many mindless or painful directions, when more than anything we just want to rest, put down our heavy loads.

         We all yoke ourselves to something, you know.  It may be to a job that is grinding us down bit by bit.  It may be to loans and credit cards that are burying us dollar by dollar.  It may be to a marriage that is falling apart day by day. It may be to an event in the past that we could not control then and the repercussions of which we cannot control now. 

         But whatever that yoke is for you, it dominates you and pulls you to places oh so dark and scary.  It carries with it a burden you cannot possibly carry.  And there is no yoke-mate.  You are alone.

         But the way of Jesus is different.  We are not shouldering the yoke by ourselves.  He is there, beside us, sharing the baggage we carry, not eliminating it, but simply sharing it, which, when you think about it, is really enough to manage the fear, the pain, the sorrow.  Take up his yoke and learn from him.  Learn of the power of prayer.  Learn of the need for friendship and companionship.  Learn of the fact that, as theologian Frederick Buechner wrote, “there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.”

         Open your eyes, O fickle generation!  Open your hearts to embrace God’s passion for the world!  Throw your narrow and downright silly expectations for the Messiah out the window, and see that Jesus – this laughing, humble, gentle, wide-eyed lover of life embodies God’s dream for us.  This man, Jesus, can be our yoke-mate and share our baggage and burdens. We can learn from him.  We should learn from him because he is all that God hopes that we will someday be ourselves – and be for one another.    

by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church U.C.C. 

Matthew 10:40-42 "The Journey of Welcome"

You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly! 

         I heard a story about a woman who had invited some friends to supper.  When everyone was seated at the table, she turned to her six-year-old daughter and said, "Would you like to say grace?" 

         "I would not know what to say," the little girl replied. 

         "Just say what you hear Mommy say," her mother said.

         The little girl bowed her head and prayed, "Dear Lord, why on earth did I invite all these people to dinner?" 

         However you may personally feel about opening your heart and your home to strangers and guests, you would be hard-pressed to deny that the theme of welcome and hospitality threads its way through our Gospel reading this morning and, therefore, must have something to do with who we are called to be as Christians, as followers of Jesus.

         “Good morning and welcome to the Raymond Village Community Church.” “Welcome to Walmart.”  “Welcome to Maine:  the way life should be” – though I guess now it is “Welcome to Maine: Open for Business.”  Welcome to Lake Wobegon, where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.  From welcome mats to welcome signs, we like to think of ourselves as being pretty well refined in the art of welcome and adept at the rituals of hospitality. 

         As well we should be, right?  After all, the art of welcome along with those rituals of hospitality are both deeply embedded in our religious psyche.  They are part and parcel of who we are in the Judeo-Christian tradition. 

         First off, welcoming the stranger is integral to the Jewish Torah.  There are numerous stories in the Bible to illustrate that ancient custom – like the one we read this morning about Abraham welcoming the three strangers to his tent.  Hospitality was a measure of the Jewish community’s faithfulness to God, and so, it is not surprising that the art of welcome lay at the roots of the earliest Christian communities as well. 

         For example, in the letter that the Apostle Paul wrote to the congregation in Rome, he advised the fledgling church community to welcome the stranger. Likewise, in the Biblical Book of Hebrews, the author reminds readers that in offering hospitality to those unknown to them, they might well be “entertaining angels unawares.”

         And here in our passage from the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus cautions his disciples to welcome even the lowest and the least with, if nothing else, a cup of cool water.  In fact, he suggests that it is the very smallest of acts of selfless kindness that signal the start of true hospitality.

         These verses from the Gospel of Matthew conclude Jesus’ chapter-long discourse to his disciples as he sends them out on a journey of welcome to heal the sick, cleanse the leper, and even raise the dead.  So far, he has outlined the scope of their ministry and told them in no uncertain terms that what they are about to embark on will not be easy.  Now he finishes up his instructions and observations with a reminder of the ancient custom of welcome and hospitality – and the tantalizing mention of a reward.

         And on that note, Peter, James, John, Andrew, and the other disciples head out to do the work of ministry.  Jesus sends them with no suitcases or even a clean robe to change into. 

He sends them with no provisions, and therefore they will not know where their next meal is coming from. He sends them with nary a map or a GPS.  He sends them with no weapons save their compassion, their faith in a loving God, and their trust in the power of the Holy Spirit that somehow had lit a fire in the heart of each one of them. 

         “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me,” Jesus tells them as he bids them farewell.  “Whoever accepts what you do, accepts me, the One who sent you. Whoever welcomes or accepts one of God’s messengers, well, that is as good as being God’s messenger. Accepting someone’s help is as good as giving someone help. This is a large and difficult work I have called you into, but do not be overwhelmed by it.”  And with a wave of his handkerchief, he sends them forth on a journey of welcome.

         Now what made it all so darn difficult for the disciples was that being a person of welcome was far more profound and intimate than just being friendly.  Jesus asks more of his followers than kind smiles and easy handshakes.  The work of welcome is more than greeting people and saying hello – though our little ritual at the beginning of worship today is perhaps a tiny start.

Face it though: Real hospitality, like much of Christianity, is a risky and downright challenging business.

         You see, what Jesus is really talking about in this passage about welcome or hospitality is a deep and heartfelt acceptance.  What he is challenging his disciples to do is to receive people from the very bottom of their hearts and souls. What he is challenging them to do is to merge their life stories with the stories of those they meet along the way – even if they do not like or are fearful of those other stories – because that is how new and vibrant communities are formed.

         The work of welcome is acceptance – not tolerance but acceptance – of people with all their funny foibles and individual differences and divergent preferences.  The work of welcome is recognizing – and, more than that, embracing - the lesbian, the oddball, the Muslim, the freak as a child of God, just like you. 

         As Anglican Church of Canada pastor Craig Condon wrote, “To Jesus, hospitality meant acceptance of even those who, in his society and in his day, were deemed to be unacceptable. This is why he put his arms around lepers, ate with tax collectors and sinners, forgave adulterers and broke Sabbath laws. Hospitality was not only important to Jesus, it was at the very heart of being God, and it didn’t make any difference to him where such hospitality took place, or to whom, or on what day.”

         The work of welcome is venturing out of your comfort zone to where the other person is, rather than expecting the other to come to you.  It is inviting someone to worship – or inviting someone to coffee hour after worship – rather than figuring it is their responsibility to come through those doors into a place they have never been before or their responsibility to venture down to the Vestry and into the midst of a bunch of people they do not know. 

         The work of welcome is moving beyond a friendly greeting and instead personally inviting people into every aspect of what it means to be this church family here in Raymond – from pot roast suppers to Bible and book studies, from cantatas to hymn sings – not just an invitation to come but an invitation to work to plan, and to volunteer.  As Christian author Arthur Sutherland states, "Hospitality is the practice by which the church stands or falls."

         In this brief passage we read, Jesus may be speaking to his disciples – Peter, James, John, and the others - and maybe we are thinking that we should be breathing a sigh of relief that we live some 2000 years later – and are not in danger of being swept up in the company of that ragtag bunch – sans suitcase, provisions, maps, and suitable weaponry.  However, Jesus’ words about welcome are for us as well, both as individuals and as a church family. 

         Just as he sent the disciples all those eons ago, Jesus also sends us – we who say we are Christians - out on the same journey of welcome.  Oh, not all of us may be ready to knock on doors, seeking out the marginalized, the lost, and the lonely.  He understands that.  However, surely, all of us can at least open the door.  And maybe it is time for us to push the boundaries a bit anyway, move outside our comfort zone, trusting as we have been taught that with God all things are possible.

         The journey of welcome we have chosen – and our presence here today is a testament to that choosing – the journey is a difficult one; that is true.  However, the journey of welcome is also a privilege.  It is a privilege because, as we journey, we get to represent Jesus.  On this journey of welcome, we are called to be Christ to those we meet.  By what we do, people will see what God is all about.  How exciting and inspirational is that?        

         And so I ask you, as Methodist pastor April Blaine once asked her congregation: Who will meet Jesus this week in you?  Who will see you this week and also see God?  Maybe through something you say or do not say.  Maybe the time you take to listen.  Maybe the care you offer to someone right at the moment they need it….For whom will you be Christ’s representative in the world?....Who will see God in you?”

         And not only will we represent Jesus on this journey of welcome, we will also encounter unending opportunities to see Jesus in those we meet.  It is as Mother Teresa once noted: "I see God in every human being. When I wash the leper's wounds, I feel I am nursing the Lord Himself. Is it not a beautiful experience?" 

         The journey of welcome then is at once challenging, inspirational, and beautiful beyond measure.  One would think that such would be enough for even the most cynical among us.  However, woven in and among Jesus’ words in these verses is talk of a reward, a reward for embarking on this journey of welcome.  Whatever could he mean by that?        

Well, first off (and hopefully this is not too much of a disappointment), the reward is not something we earn – like a pat on the head, stars in our crown, or a one- way ticket to the pearly gates when the time comes.  The reward is not payment for services rendered, so we ought not bother keeping score:  I cleansed two lepers and helped one old lady cross the street today. 

         No – the reward is Jesus himself.  The reward is the experience of God’s grace. The reward is a life transformed – both our life and that of the man or woman or child we meet along the way. The reward is the gift of doing our part to bring forth God’s kingdom of justice, reconciliation, peace, and compassion. The reward is truly being in relationship with Christ.

         That’s it! Risky and challenging as it may be, Christianity is really startlingly simple.  It is like the story of a Sunday School teacher who could not open the combination lock on the supply cabinet at the church. She went to the pastor for help.

         The pastor started turning the dial of the combination lock, stopped after the first number, looked up serenely toward heaven, began moving his lips silently, turned to the next number, repeated the process of looking up and moving his lips,

then turned to the third and final number, opening the lock to the cabinet.

         The teacher gasped, "I'm in awe of your faith, pastor, and the power of your prayers."

         The pastor replied, “I have to be honest. The three numbers are written on a piece of tape up there on the ceiling."

         You just have to know where to look.  You just have to know the basics, which are stated in all the Gospels in various ways.  For us today, the basics are these.  First, you are on a journey of welcome, and when someone sees you, they see Jesus.  Though your actions, you let them know what God is like.  And second, on this journey of welcome, when you see someone, be looking for Jesus, for he is there in your presence – and respond accordingly.

         As Presbyterian pastor Alan Brehm noted, “It’s really no more complicated than that. No elaborate systems, no obsessions with keeping every jot and tittle. At the end of the day, it’s about having a heart that is willing to give to others the same grace, and mercy, and unconditional love that we have received.” 

         Jesus calls us to a journey of welcome. It is a journey that is at once challenging, inspirational, and beautiful beyond measure. And now is the time to take those first steps.  So go, go forth and be persons of welcome as Jesus has called you to be.

.

        by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church U.C.C.

          

                          

         

Matthew 10:24-39 "Where the Magic Happens"

You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly! 

         The church-going parents of four young boys often had difficulty curbing their kids’ energy.  Of course, to phrase it that way is to cast a very positive light on the situation. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that there was a lot of shoving and hitting, and generalized sibling fighting in the household.

         However, when one Sunday the pastor preached on Jesus’ teaching about "turning the other cheek," the boys gave him their undivided attention.

         “No matter what others do to us,” the pastor proclaimed, “we should never try to ‘get even.’”

         Later that same afternoon, the youngest boy stormed into the house, angry and in tears. Between sobs, he defiantly shared that, yes, he had kicked one of his brothers, but that same brother had then gone and kicked him in return.

         "I’m sorry that you are hurt," his mother said. "But you should not go around kicking people."

         Still choking back tears, the little boy replied, "But the preacher said he is not supposed to kick me back."

         Oh, that Jesus!  Our rabbi and savior is always putting a twist on everything, making our lives just that much more difficult.  But such is the way if you are really one of his followers.  There is a cost to discipleship.  There is a level of difficulty that is above and beyond the comfortable, making the way of Christianity neither easy nor, when you come right down to it, particularly attractive.

         And Jesus makes that notion abundantly clear to the disciples – and to us – in the Gospel passage we just read.  Being a Christian – being a disciple – being a follower of Jesus is no Sunday School picnic. 

         Jesus spells out for the disciples – and for us – what it will mean to truly follow his way, and he warns that neither they nor we should anticipate any better treatment than he himself got.  Expect brothers betraying brothers, he foresees, daughters rebelling, and families divided.  Get ready to lose your social status, he warns, and become disgraced in the eyes of all the beautiful people who always looked up to you.  Be prepared to take some flack for hanging out with the lowest and the least, the marginalized and the hangers on. 

        Well, that is a sobering pep talk if there ever was one – considering how the Temple elite and the Roman government both treated Jesus!  Take up your cross and follow in my footsteps?  Really?

         As Church of England pastor Joan Crossley wrote, “I think if Jesus were alive today, he would be advised to repackage his message to be more attractive. A PR expert would say, “less heavy on the potential suffering angle, Jesus, more on the eternal reward”.

         And yet - the plan is the plan, the Gospel is the Gospel, and the words we read this morning are the instructions and observations that Jesus laid out for anyone who decided to follow his way, for anyone who made the deep and serious commitment to be a disciple, to be a Christian.  These are the instructions then for any of us who have chosen to be here, in this place, this morning.  And, face it, these observations are not designed to comfort the afflicted.  They are bent on afflicting the comfortable.

         The author of the Gospel of Matthew most likely pulled together these bullet points from different sources.  Most Biblical scholars agree that they were either individual sayings or originated as several smaller collections. In the Gospel, however, they form part of the five large blocks of discourses or teachings that the author has attributed to Jesus.   

         However, within the historical context of the writing of this Gospel of Matthew, these sayings reflect the period of persecution that the new Jesus movement endured following the Roman-Jewish War, the fall of Jerusalem, and destruction of the Temple around 70 CE.  The author included these verses in the Gospel to speak to the earliest Jewish Christians who lived in a time when practicing their newfound faith invited constant disrespect, heckling, and economic sanctions right on up to even more drastic measures, that is, torture and martyrdom.  

         It all began so simply.  Remember?  Jesus was down by the lakeshore in Galilee, extending that intriguing invitation to Peter and Andrew and the others: “Come and follow me.”  Sure, it meant leaving home and all, but what an adventure!  I mean, sitting at Jesus’ feet and singing “Kumbayah” round the campfire at night, watching him perform miracles, wandering the highways and byways with this itinerant rabbi.         

         Sure – there were a few uncomfortable times, like when he tried preaching in his hometown of Nazareth and folks got so angry they nearly threw him off a cliff before railroading them all out of town. But the disciples were like the backup band, playing along from a distance.

         And then, something changed.  In the Gospel of Matthew, that change is articulated right here in Chapter 10, in the verses just before our passage, verses we call “The Great Commission.”  As Presbyterian pastor Robina Winbush writes, “The disciples move from being those who sit with Jesus and learn from Jesus to now being sent forth into the world. Jesus sends them out to cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons, to be about the work of ministry, to be about the business of partnering with the Divine in the liberation work of rescuing and redeeming humankind.

         And Jesus tells them, ‘It's serious work. And as you go out, I need you to understand some things. I need you to undergo a radical reorientation of how you look at life, at how you look at this mission. You're gonna go out, but don't think that life is going to be any different for you than it has been for me.’ There's a temptation (Winbush writes) to sometimes believe that when Jesus calls us to follow him, to live in relationship with the Divine, that it somehow or another creates for us a zone of acceptance, a zone of comfort.”

         However, if we look to this passage, that is not so: brothers against brothers, daughters against mothers.  That is hardly comfortable stuff!  “I did not come to bring peace but a sword.”  I did not come with the easy answer.  I came to turn the world upside down and inside out – and that now is your mission too.

         Whoa!  Wait a minute!  Are you saying no more “Kumbayah”? We did not bargain for this! 

         OK – what exactly then are we to expect as Jesus’ followers? What can we anticipate will be the cost of discipleship? Those are surely important questions for any of us doing the “church thing.”  What are we getting into anyway?  What are we committing to?  Jesus mentions at least two things.

         First, he tells us that we will encounter division. Remember? “I did not come to bring peace on this earth,” he says. I did not come to bring peace in your family. I did not come to bring peace in your family gathered around your fireplace.

There will be no singing kumbayah as together we set out to usher in God’s kingdom.

         The long and the short of it is when you and I proclaim the gospel message of compassionate love and justice “in the light and from the rooftops”  (as one translation reads), people are not always going to like what we say. 

         After all, Jesus’ message is not a positive one in our popular culture.  First, there is all of this rhetoric about going out-of-our-way to help the down-and-out in Raymond, the homeless in Portland, and the food insecure from Cherryfield to most of the third world.

         And then there is the expectation – not suggestion but expectation - that we will give up our own time and money and daily Dunkin Donuts or Starbuck’s lattes.  No wonder the Gospel message is divisive – and the cost of discipleship seems so high.

         Second, Jesus is telling us that not only will we encounter division, but, as we do, we will have a fundamental decision to make over and over again.  And that decision is this:  Are we for him or not?  That is, if we are not overtly for Jesus, if we are unwilling to risk living his message, then we are against him.         

         After all, if we will not give up Dunkin’ Donuts or Starbucks for the Gospel, then how can we expect others to do so?  When we choose not to overtly live the Gospel message, when we choose not to be transformed ourselves, then we fail to utilize the most powerful tool we have to change the world – because transformation (both individual and societal) is what Jesus is all about. 

         Yes, the cost of discipleship is high because it challenges us to move outside our comfort zones and to stand firm in our faith and in our commitment to the way of Jesus.

         However, that should not really surprise us because, at its very roots, Christianity was a countercultural movement, begun by a small and vulnerable minority.  It is hard to believe that today, of course – especially in our country.  We are all pretty comfortable in our faith here and in our church going. Our congregations are not composed, for the most part, of militants, counter-culturalists, and revolutionaries.

         However, Jesus still calls us out of our comfort zones.  He still calls us to risk in his name.  And so we are challenged to inform ourselves about what is going on in our world.  We are challenged to speak out.  We are challenged to take a stand.  

We are challenged to reflect on the meaning of our faith and to ask ourselves the difficult questions, difficult because they have the potential to catapult us right out of our comfort zones. 

         Questions like:  What issues touch your faith? What are you willing to take a stand on? Global climate change?  The transport of tar sands oil?  Health care? The expansion of Medicaid? Homelessness?  Hunger?  Teenaged girls abducted in Nigeria? Syrian refugees fleeing their war-torn homeland?  Solidarity with gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender persons?  The safety of our children through effective gun control?

         Questions like:  How are you acting on those faith-based issues and changing the world? What role are you actively playing in ushering in the Kingdom?  As United Church of Canada pastor, David Ewart wrote, “We all know how to lose our life so that it is lost. The trick is to figure out how to lose one's life so that it will be found.” 

         In the end, you know, as followers of Jesus, we cannot claim to be too old.  We cannot claim to be too tired.  We cannot claim that we have already paid our dues. We can not claim that we just want worship to comfort us.  “Take up your cross and follow in my footsteps.”

         There is an old marketing (and political) aphorism:  Will it sell in Peoria?  Because, the thought process goes, if it will sell in Peoria, it will sell in Chicago, New York, Portland, even Raymond, Maine. 

         Well, Jesus was no marketer or politician.  As Lutheran pastor, Edward Markquart reflects, “Jesus was oblivious to these kinds of mechanisms.  Jesus never asked, “Will this sell in Jerusalem?”  “Disciples, do you think that the people in Jericho will buy into this kind of idea?” 

         And today’s Scripture lesson is another one of the many examples of the offensiveness of Jesus of Nazareth, of the radical offensiveness, of the bluntness.  Jesus is willing to tell it like it is.  He is going to tell you up front about the cost of discipleship…. Jesus is blunt.  He is so blunt he is not afraid of offending anyone.” 

         In this passage we read today, the author tells us about real discipleship and what it will entail – and, if we are honest with ourselves, it is not the kind of discipleship we like to hear about, and it is not the kind of discipleship we like to think applies to us.         

         But it is the kind of discipleship we need to hear about – and it does apply to us here in the church.  As the church, we are called like no other group is called to move out beyond these four walls into the world – just like the first disciples.  We as the church are called like no other group to be committed folks who stand up and speak out and take action because of our faith.  In short, Jesus challenges us.  Jesus sets out to afflict the comfortable – and that would be us. 

         And yet, in the midst of his radical offensiveness and bluntness is a whispered hope.  “Do not be afraid,” Jesus tells us.  Three times in this passage he tells us:  “Do not be afraid.”

         As Methodist pastor Susan Bresser assures us, “In the face of persecution, or let’s say in the face of criticism, or in the face of risk-taking for our faith, Jesus says we have nothing to fear. …Don’t be afraid to be challenged, because your faith is your foundation.”

         And so we set forth into the season of Pentecost, into what the church calls “ordinary time,” a time of quiet growth and spiritual self-discovery, a time to reflect upon our willingness to accept the cost of discipleship in our own lives.          

         We set forth with the unending challenge of the Gospel and with the recognition that this crazy idea of afflicting the comfortable surely will not sell in Peoria.  But we also set forth with the whispered hope that our faith in the power of God’s love will be enough, so that we will risk, we will grapple with the tough issues, we will stand up, we will speak out, and we will take action.  

         There is a cost to discipleship.  That is for sure.  Venturing out of our comfort zone is never easy, but oh, when we do, that is where the magic happens.

by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church, U.C.C.