The Rev. Warner White

Proper 22A  October 2, 2011

Trinity Episcopal Church, Shelburne

Introduction. Violence in the gospel parables

I imagine that from time to time you’ve been dismayed—even shocked—by the violence, the cruelty, in some of Jesus’ parables.

In today’s gospel reading, for example, we have the landowner who is being defrauded by his tenants. He stupidly keeps sending servants who get killed and then even his son. So finally, what does he do—he solves his problem violently. He puts those wretches to a miserable death.

And this is far from the only such story.

I did a quick run-through of Matthew the other day and easily found seven such examples—and I’m sure I missed some others.

“Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida!,” says Jesus, “ For if the deeds of power done in you had been done in [the gentile  cities] Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. But I tell you, on the day of judgment it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon than for you.” And then he adds, “And you, Capernaum … “will be brought down to Hades.”

And  there’s the story we heard on a recent Sunday about the slave who owed his master money and couldn’t pay. The master forgives him. And then this  slave refuses to forgive a fellow slave. What does his master do to him?

“His lord handed him over to be tortured,” says Jesus, “until he would pay his entire debt. So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

Another loser is the wedding guest who arrives without a proper robe.  The king says to him, “Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?” And the  poor guy is speechless. Then the king says to his attendants. “Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

I could go on and tell about what Jesus thinks of the Pharisees and hypocrites, and about the slave who drinks and parties in his master’s absence, and about the slave who buries his master’s money instead of investing it, but you get the idea.

The gospel parables are full of violence.

1.    The Gospel of Conflict

And then there’s the Gospel story itself.

It’s a story of good guys and bad guys, told in black and white with hardly any shades of grey. No sooner does Jesus appear on the scene than enemies start plotting against him. Herod sets out to kill the baby Jesus. And when he can’t find him, he kills all the boys in Bethlehem two years old and younger.

And why is it that Jesus comes from Nazareth rather than Bethlehem—because Joseph is afraid to go back there.

Then there’s John the Baptist preparing the way. Preparing the way! If I want help in beginning my life’s work, do I want someone to start denouncing the authorities of the people I’m going to be working with?

This is the beginning of a struggle to the death. This is not the story of a gentle divine intervention.

And that’s just the prelude.

The first act starts gently enough with Jesus’ baptism, but it concludes with a fight between Jesus and Satan.

Then we get Jesus’ healings, his call of disciples, and his teaching—and, in particular, the gentle tones of the Sermon on the Mount. But wait a minute—it’s not entirely gentle tones. There’s an ominous warning, “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you.”

I won’t go step-by-step through all the scenes of conflict, but you and I are aware that there’s a constant theme of struggle between Jesus and the Pharisees, between his teaching with authority and their accusations of blasphemy, between those who accept his ministry and those who reject it, until finally his enemies take direct steps to kill him.

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Jesus does not seek conciliation. He provokes. He enters the enemies’ stronghold—Jerusalem—like a king. He uses that biblical imagery to stake a claim. We see evil powers—the high priest, the elders, the Pharisees, the Sadducees—plot. We see treachery. We see a hapless secular authority. And finally—torture and death.

That’s what I will call the Gospel of Conflict.

2.    The Gospel of Mystery

There’s a second Christian Gospel. I’ll call it the Gospel of Mystery. It’s the one I usually preach. It’s about our inner  being.

In Paul’s Letter to the Colossians (2:25–27) he says this:

I became [the church’s] servant...to make...known the mystery...hidden throughout the ages...which is Christ in you.

This Gospel of Mystery proclaimed by Paul in his various letters I understand like this:

You and I are born alienated from our true self, the Christ in us, the Mystery at our center. To truly human is to be united with this inner Christ—and that’s the task of our life—to overcome the alienation and be united with our true self, the Christ within.

In practice that means walking the way of the cross. It means denial of self. It means not living for self, but giving up self. As we do this little by little in our handling of the troubles and victories of life, as we give up self-centeredness in these life events, just so far we one with God.

That’s the Gospel of Mystery. Both it and the Gospel of Conflict are the Christian Gospel.

3.    The lure of the world

These two Gospels stand in contrast to the lure of the world. The world seduces us with success, with pleasures, with self-importance.

The success books, the self-improvement books do not teach you how to give up self, but how to improve self, how to overcome obstacles, how to attain goals.

This is complicated. For after all it is good to be educated. It is good to be skillful. It is good to get things done.

But not for self.

Jesus warns us not to do our almsgiving so as to be admired by others, to do our almsgiving quietly, even secretly, so that it’s just a matter between us and God. The same is true for the goods of life—for the good of education. We are not to parade our learning. It’s true for our skills. We are not to parade our skills so as to be admired. It’s true for our accomplishments. We are not to puff up self because of them.

But we can take pleasure in them. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying our goods—so long as we are rejoicing in the gift of God, not the puffery of self.

It’s complicated. And it’s difficult.

I really like being important. I really like being admired. I really like being looked up to. But that’s a trap. That’s puffery.

I must not only understand my littleness of self, but also take pleasure in my goodness in God. The key is God, a focus on God, a giving up of self in the process. All things are good in God.

Conclusion. How to read the gospels

Keep these things in mind as you read the gospels and as you hear them read and preached. Hear the gospels as recounting the titanic struggle between the  spiritual forces of wickedness and those of good.

In Baptism we make two renunciations that should be our guide.

“Do you renounce Satan,” says the Celebrant, “and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?”

“I renounce them,” we respond.

“Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?”

“I renounce them.”

Those renunciations point to a world we are often unaware of, a world hidden beneath the surface world, a world of vast spiritual forces in conflict.

The gospel stories are about that conflict. The Gospel is the story of that conflict. Our lives take place in the midst of that conflict.

We must listen to the gospels as recounting that conflict. No wonder there is violence and cruelty in those stories.

So when you hear the gospels, listen with your inner ear for the sounds of battle.