There was a priest who was a former Army chaplain and he like to use a lot of military metaphors. One of his favorites was to call the folks in his congregation “The Army of the Lord.”
So one day, when the priest was greeting people leaving Mass, wishing them a good week and such, when a man came up to him who the priest saw only rarely.
“Jack, Jack,” the priest said. “So good to see you. But I wish I’d see you more often. You need to join the Army of the Lord.”
“But I have,” said Jack. “I am a member of the Army of the Lord.”
“They why do I see you so rarely—hardly more than Christmas and Easter?” asked the priest.
Jack leaned really close to the priest, and whispered in his ear: “I’m in the Secret Service.”
If we think about it, that military metaphor—that idea of an army and combat—fits with today’s Gospel reading, a reading that is pretty jarring if we actually listen to it. Jesus says that He has come to set the earth on fire and that He wishes it were already blazing. He says that he has not come to establish peace on earth, but division. He talks about how families and households will be divided, 2 against 3 and 3 against 2, fathers against sons and mothers against daughters.
Tough stuff.
Not how we usually like to think about Jesus. We like to think of Him as a man of peace, justice, love, joy—a nice safe, sweet man who doesn’t demand too much of us, who is easy to have around, who would be a good dinner guest.
But that isn’t the Jesus of the Gospels, and a reading like today’s brings us face-to-face with that face.
Jesus was a rebel and He came to start a revolution. No, not against the Romans or other earthly governments, though some of His followers would have liked that and that’s what Pilate was getting at when he had the inscription “The King of the Jews” put above Jesus’ head on the cross.
No, Jesus started a revolution that overthrows the existing order of things. In part, it is a revolution inside each of us. He came to call us to a higher standard—not just to love our friends, but to love our enemies as well; to consider everyone our neighbor, not just people like us; to avoid not just actions in lust, but also thoughts in lust; to looks for ways to do good, not just to avoid evil.
And collectively the intent of this revolution is to overthrow the forces of evil—Satan, the devil, call him what you will—that are currently in charge and have been since humans first turned to sin.
Again, we intelligent, educated people don’t like to talk this way. Talking about the devil sounds so old fashioned, so middle ages. We don’t actually still think that way, do we?
Maybe some of us don’t, but it is impossible to deny the presence of evil in the world. Just look at the events in El Paso and Dayton, events that seem to happen all-too-frequently. Watch the news and almost every day there is something that you see which makes you ask yourself: “How can people act that way?”
The fire that Jesus came to start burning is the revolution, the rebellion, against the internal and external forces that cause people to “act that way.” It is a fire in the hearts and souls of His followers—all of us—and has been since His death and resurrection.
But as with any revolution, the forces of the old order do not give up easily, as Jesus knew they wouldn’t, which is why He says He did not come to establish peace on earth, but rather division. Division is a necessary part of the plan. It is a consequence of our free will. The forces of evil will push back and some people will choose to follow Christ, and join the revolution, and some will not.
Three against two, and two against three. Sons against fathers; mothers against daughters.
And it seems like these days there is a particularly-great amount of push back, of division— the abuse crisis, folks leaving the Church, the rise of the “nones” and all of that—so those of us in the revolution can get a little down.
But we know one thing for sure. As we say in the Creed, Jesus will come again to judge the living and the dead. The forces of good will prevail, and the Kingdom of God will come. We just don’t know when.
But there is one other thing to think about: opponents fight the hardest when they’re about to lose. I’m one of the deans – mentors or advisors, you might say—for the class of 10 men to be ordained deacons in December, God willing. It takes about 5 years of study and preparation to get ready to be ordained, and there are always some people who decide not to continue for various reasons.
I heard someone predict a few months ago, though, that the last six months would be the most challenging for the guys on the path to be ordained. It is then that they would get tested the most, that the most obstacles would get thrown at them, when the forces that don’t want more deacons would work the hardest.
I was at a retreat at the end of June in South Dakota with the 10 men, and it was shocking how true that prediction turned out to be. One after another the guys reported challenges they hadn’t experienced before, and never expected to experience—at home, at work, you name it. I’d never heard anything like that level of obstacles discussed in the retreats the prior 4 years.
It sure felt like a last-ditch effort to stop those good men from being ordained, an effort which will fail, I think.
So amid all the difficulties and divisions that we see, let’s keep our hopes up. God wins, after all, and maybe that victory is closer than we think.