Not every story ends with
“happily ever after.” In every culture of this world, there are stories that
don’t have happy ending, at least not as we might normally define them. Tragic
tales where the bad guys sometimes do win, or where the couple falls in love
only to have one of them succumb to a terminal illness. Or a third type of
story, one pertinent to today’s theme, where the good guys do win, but at the
ultimate cost to the hero or heroes of the tale.
King Arthur defeats Modred,
but must surrender his kingdom and go off to Avalon. There are a lot of movies
like this. Magnificent Seven. Classic western. How many have seen it? Anyone
remember how many of the seven are still alive at the end? Only 3. Saving
Private Ryan, a more recent film. Tom Hanks’ character takes his platoon of
soldiers in to rescue Ryan, who’s the last of his siblings alive; all the
others have died in the
Our Gospel lesson today
contains a teaching of Jesus that serves to remind us that our stories don’t
always end with “happily ever after” either. He points to his enemies, those
who have accused him, the Son of God, of being the devil. And Jesus says, “if
they do that to me, the teacher, the master, you can imagine what they’ll do to
you as the disciples.” He points to the disruption of relationships within
families and friends that his teaching creates, and with regret, he says this
is how our stories may be. We may not have happily ever after, because
sometimes good cannot triumph without great cost.
It doesn’t seem quite right
though that people should have to be punished and persecuted and suffer for
doing what is right. What threat could it possibly be for the sick to receive
healing, the hungry be fed, the poor be put back on their feet again? Christ
came, as he says, to save the whole world. John 3:16. “For God so loved the world…” The verse that follows is almost as
important, if not more so. 3:17. “Indeed,
the son did not come to condemn…”
And therein lies the rub.
There’s the problem. The truth is, we live in a world that loves to condemn. It
hungers for vengeance, for hatred. Yet Christ comes to save, and he invites us
into that work, into the work of saving the world, of saving all people.
As often as I preach about
that simple truth, of how Christ came to save everybody, I’m never sure that
even I quite grasp the full meaning of it, the full implications of it. It’s to
come to terms with the truth that I could die, go to heaven, and there would be
Hitler, OBL, and Charles Manson all standing there. I have no idea if that will
truly happen, but if we truly believe that God is a god of mercy, that any and
all sins may be forgiven through the blood of Jesus Christ, then it is a
distinct possibility. That is what it
really means for all people to be saved, and we have been invited, been called
as disciples and followers of Jesus Christ to help make it happen.
But the world will never
accept that. The world loves hatred and vengeance and condemnation, not mercy.
And there are many people that the world, maybe even including some of us,
thinks, rightly or wrongly, simply don’t deserve that mercy. And when it is
offered nonetheless, the world reacts with hostility and even violence.
We know this. We’ve seen it
happen. And yet, there are those among us, believers like ourselves, who even
though they know there will be extreme consequences, still extend the hand of
mercy to those the world would condemn. They know what will happen, they know
what the world will think, and they do it anyway. They do it anyway because
they know it is the right thing to do. They do it anyway because they know it
is what Christ would have done. And some of them have paid the ultimate price
for showing mercy to those the world would rather condemn.
Much of the history of the
church is written in the blood of such martyrs. People who did what was right,
no matter the cost. Who preached the Gospel when it was not wanted. Who fed the
poor, clothed the naked, and worked for justice and the dignity of all people.
Who showed mercy to those the world had condemned as unworthy of it, those of
different color, different age or gender or sexual orientation, different economic
status, those of who didn’t speak the right language, those who “aren’t from
around here,” and yes, also to those guilty of vicious evils. This is what it
means to bear the cross, to go and do regardless of consequence. This is our
calling, my friends. This is what we are invited to do as well.
How can we? How can we when
the power of the world is so great? How can we when hatred is so strong? How
can we when we ourselves sometimes think as the world does, and as much as we
may regret it, we hold anger and vengeance in our heart against a person or a
people? How can we when we’re afraid, when we want the happily ever after, and
not the agony of the cross?
We must remember that for
all of our fears and all of our flaws, we are still the children of God. And
that the love and mercy we are called to live out and proclaim to all others is
the same love and mercy that we have received through Christ. As he reminds us,
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.
And it is for that reason,
even if it is our blood that writes the next chapter of the history of the
church, we need not fear even then. We are children of God and we go where
Christ has led the way. As Paul reminds us, if
we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united
with him in a resurrection like his. Even death cannot stop us, for we have
received God’s mercy and salvation through Christ.
I grew up at the tail end of
the Cold War, when everyone was convinced that the Russians and the Americans
were going to blow themselves and everyone else to kingdom come. Twenty years
later, not much has changed. Our society is still terrified of enemies within
and without, and in our fear, we have become quick to condemn this group and
that group, and these people and those people. The world needs love and mercy
now more than ever, and if we as followers and disciples of Christ do not live
and proclaim it, who will? Amen.