Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, June 25, 2023

Jeremiah 20:7-13+Psalm 69:8-11,18-20+Romans 6:1b-11+Matthew 10:24-39

In church leadership circles, there are some tried and true methods to get people involved in the work of God in this world: the promise of community, of support from the local congregation, an occasional volunteer appreciation event, or at least a parish picnic where the hot dogs are provided. The loving and patient encouragement by the one in charge is part of nurturing a strong and effective program of discipleship.

I think Jesus must have missed that class in school.

When Jesus invites the disciples along on this mission to proclaim the reign of God, he gives them power to heal, to cast out demons, and to raise the dead. What he doesn’t give them is wages or protection. He tells them to empty their pockets, to leave behind the overnight bag, and to forget about wearing shoes (Luke 10:4). He guarantees them that they will have doors slammed in their faces, that they will be rejected. He tells them that they will be like lambs sent out among wolves.

And instead of saying that it’ll be okay and they can come home and process all that rejection, what does he say? Move on! Shake it off (cue T-Swift here). Go to the next place and do it all over again.

The things he teaches in this morning’s gospel are even harder, I think, because he tells them that the cost of discipleship is high. They will lose family and friends, those they hold dear, all for the sake of following him.

We read that these days and imagine that it’s different now. But I am not so sure.

You see, Matthew’s community was undergoing the upheaval caused when followers of Jesus were clearly no longer followers of Jewish law. Since the Jerusalem temple had been destroyed in the 70 C.E., it became increasingly important for the leaders of the Jews to enforce some kind of standard for what put someone on the outside of the community, and following Jesus was one of those things. Christianity was being born in the painful labor of determining who was in and who was out. To be in as a disciple meant that you were out of the Jewish community. In a society in which kinship is of utmost importance, this was almost too much to contemplate.

Today, we see families who can’t even gather for Thanksgiving dinner because of the divides over politics or religion or racism. The days when we could overlook the racist comment or the conspiracy theorizing are long past. We speak up at some risk, but in this world where lives are at stake, where we are in danger of sliding backwards into authoritarianism and discrimination against anyone who is not straight, cisgender, and white, we can’t remain on the sidelines.

Lest we begin to think that we are at some kind of critical, unprecedented spot in history, however, take heart. It’s always been so. Just ask old Jeremiah.

Today, we heard the last of six laments recorded in the book of Jeremiah. Jeremiah is known as the weeping prophet, and if you have ever been to the Sistine Chapel, you have seen him rendered by Michelangelo with his chin resting on his hand and covering his mouth.

In addition to the entire five chapters of the book known as the Lamentations of Jeremiah, there are six lamentations in the book of Jeremiah, and all of them are about the catastrophe that is about to befall the southern kingdom of Judah. Without going into all the details, Babylon is threatening to invade, which they end up doing, and this is how the Babylonian exile begins in 586 B.C.E.  The reasons for this from where we sit might be that Palestine had the unenviable position of being situated at the crossroads of major empires – Assyria, Egypt, Babylon, and later, Persia – but from where Jeremiah sat, it was all because kings and people had gone astray, worshipping other gods and being generally faithless to the God of Israel. His laments are weeping over the coming destruction, but the people don’t want to hear it. At various times he was beaten, put into stocks, and thrown into a cistern where he was left to die. But he didn’t. Then he was kept in prison until Jerusalem fell. At some point, he was kidnapped by those who wished to protect him and whisked away to Egypt against his will. It is assumed that he died there in about 570 B.C.E.

This sixth lament of Jeremiah’s from chapter 20 is probably the most self-referential. Rather than starting off as a lament over Judah, it is about how he is being persecuted, and it’s all God’s fault.

O Lord, you have enticed me,
and I was enticed; 

you have overpowered me,
and you have prevailed. 

I have become a laughingstock all day long;
everyone mocks me. 

For whenever I speak, I must cry out,
I must shout, "Violence and destruction!" 

For the word of the Lord has become for me
a reproach and derision all day long. (Jeremiah 20:7-8)

Speaking up and speaking out can be a dangerous business. But like a fire shut up in our bones (20:9), we can’t keep silent. If we are silent, even the stones will cry out, Jesus would later say (Luke 19:20). Telling people about our faith can be hard. Standing up for goodness and righteousness, the dignity of everyone, our responsibility to clothe and feed and shelter – all of these can open us up to disdain from those who want to protect themselves and their position, their power, and their prestige.

Jesus may not be much help in easing our anxiety about that, and he may say to sell everything and give the money to the poor, but he’s also the only one showing us that when we pray that it will be on earth as it is in heaven, we are co-workers with him in making that a reality for all eternity.

No one ever said it would be easy, but there is no other promise quite worth that risk.