51 When the days drew near for him to
be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. 52 And he sent
messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans
to make ready for him; 53 but they did not receive him, because his
face was set toward Jerusalem. 54 When his disciples James and John
saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from
heaven and consume them?” 55 But he turned and rebuked them. 56
Then they went on to another village.
57 As they were going along the road,
someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” 58 And
Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the
Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” 59 To another he said,
“Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” 60 But
Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and
proclaim the kingdom of God.” 61 Another said, “I will follow you,
Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” 62 Jesus
said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the
kingdom of God.”
Luke 9:51-62 will
expose us to the difficulties involved in discipleship.
Luke 9:51-56 is a
story about Jesus and the Samaritan Village. The story derives from the unique
source of Luke.
The unit opens
with a distinctly Lukan phrase and vocabulary. With typical Lukan artistry, the
text opens the journeying motif with grace and power. The passage marks the
beginning of Luke’s “journeying” section as he transitions from a concentration
on Galilee to a focus on Jerusalem. In a major departure from Mark’s outline,
Luke inserts a huge section of material (9:51-18:23) that introduces new
stories gathered around Jesus’ journey from Galilee to Jerusalem. 51 When the days drew near in
the sense of the fulfillment of his prophetic ministry for him to be taken up (or assumption or ascension). The NRSV translation tends to obscure
Luke's introductory emphasis on the need for Jesus' journey to fulfill
prophetic plans. The allusion to the
ascension is obvious. However, Luke immediately makes it clear that if this is
the divinely inspired journey of a divinely inspired messenger, it is no
triumphal march on a royal road. He set
his face to go to Jerusalem. Luke stresses the determination of Jesus to go
to Jerusalem. Luke points to Jesus' determination to accomplish this
journey. Luke implies this was the
embarkation point for an imminent and unstoppable series of events. Jesus sets
out to travel the road appointed him by God, not a road of his own choosing. 52 And he sent messengers ahead
of him. This recalls the Old Testament scripture that describes John the
Baptist's identity and mission (Luke 7:27): "See, I am sending my
messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you." John the
Baptist, Jesus' first proclaimer is now dead. The disciples or messengers sent
ahead now take over John the Baptist's role of proclaiming Jesus' coming. This
"mission strategy" depicted in verse 52 will be more fully fleshed
out after this first step of Jesus' journey, when Jesus deploys the 72 with
their marching orders (10:1-20). Yet, Jesus must face conflict, rejection, and
disappointment from the outset of his journey. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for
him; 53 but they did not receive him, because his face was set
toward Jerusalem. The gospel of Luke, like Matthew, Mark and John, revolves
around conflict. The primary conflict is between Jesus and the religious
authorities of his day, a fight which begins when Jesus heals a paralytic and
the scribes and the Pharisees begin to question him (5:21). Luke sustains this
conflict throughout the gospel, and comes to a head in the episode of Jesus on
the cross (chapters 22 and 23). Jack Dean Kingsbury notes, however, that Luke
carefully controls the intensity of Jesus’ conflict with the authorities during
his Galilean ministry and journey to Jerusalem (4:14-19:46). In these sections,
of which this section is part of the second, the religious authorities rarely
challenge Jesus to his face. Luke leaves us with a dramatic tension that he
will not resolve until much later. In fact, it is not until chapter 19 that
Luke informs the readers of the intention of the authorities to destroy Jesus.[1]
The conflict is at a much lower level, and it involves encounters with a
village of Samaritans. The first stop on Jesus' long journey makes for an
inauspicious beginning. Truly, this is
ignominious beginning for Jesus and his disciples, tossed out by a scruffy
settlement of Samaritans. Remember how Jesus' public ministry in Galilee began
with an experience of rejection (4:23-30). Interestingly, the journey to
Jerusalem begins with rejection as well. In fact, Luke's gospel makes it clear
that at every new juncture of his mission, Jesus met with rejection -- first in
Galilee, then by Gentiles (8:37), in this passage by Samaritans, and finally by
Jerusalem itself (9:22; 19:41-44). 54
When his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want
us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?”[2]
James and John react to the Samaritan village's rejection of Jesus with
characteristically defective discipleship. Luke has already shown the
significant gaps in the disciples' ability to comprehend their role (9:45-50),
but here James and John patently disregard Jesus' earlier instructions about
how they are to behave when they and their message are rejected (9:5). Because
this is a Samaritan village, the punishment James and John eagerly suggest and
happily volunteer to inflict recalls the judgmental fire that Elijah and Elisha
called down on the Samaritan king (II Kings 1:1-16). Luke’s use of an
Elijah-Elisha typology for describing events in Jesus’ life is one of the
gospel writer’s repeating themes. In 9:51-56, the analogy is particularly
clear, although here the template serves to distinguish Jesus the Messiah from
those Old Testament prophets. While later copyists went so far as to insert
“just like Elijah did” into verse 54, Jesus’ response makes it clear that his
presence is not “just like Elijah’s.” When Jesus rejects Elijah’s methods of
dealing with adversity and refuses to rain divine detonations over the nameless
Samaritan village, he is also rejecting a messianic identity based on political
zealotry. In that sense, the story stands in tension with the Elijah tradition
and contains a caveat bearing the mark of Jesus. When does zeal for God become
fanaticism? 55 But he turned and rebuked them. The rebuke of Jesus
represents a decisive break with the tradition of sacred violence and human
vengeance in the name of god. Who among
us has not at times felt the urge to strike back or get even? When does zeal become zealotry? Our contemporary world abounds in examples of
the way religion and violence can join hands.
The reaction of Jesus to the suggestion foreshadows the attitude with
which Jesus will confront his accusers in the upcoming passion play — there is
no place for retaliatory anger, for “getting even,” when Jesus encounters
conflict in the course of his earthly ministry. 56 Then they went on to another village. Determined to
reach his goal of Jerusalem, Jesus simply accepts the Samaritans’ rejection and
moves along. Thus, at the beginning of the journey, Jesus must face opposition,
which he accepts it quietly, refusing the path of vengeance. It is a foretaste
of the passion, a rejection of the spirit of Elijah.
We
are learning that discipleship is difficult. In America today, the category of
“none” describes the religious preference of many persons. Frankly, those in our society who say they are
non-religious or none may understand the cost of discipleship better than some
who say they are members of a church. They do not want to pay the cost, but
they realize there is a cost.
Disciples share the determination of Jesus to travel to
Jerusalem, and this means seeing our final goal as resurrection life with God.
If we focus entirely on Wall Street or Capitol Hill or Silicon Valley or
Hollywood, if we end up putting all our passion into places that promise us
money, power or fame, then we will find ourselves falling out of relationship
with Jesus. It is only by traveling with him to Jerusalem, and moving with him
through sacrifice to new life, that we will discover our deepest fulfillment as
human beings. Disciples head for Jerusalem — not Nazareth, or Jericho, or
Tiberius. They head for the cross, for commitment, for sacrifice, but also for
a meaningful life, fulfilling love and compassionate service.
In Luke 9:57-62 we have a story of
three would-be followers of Jesus. Verses 58 and 60 have their source in Q,
while the rest of the passage is from the source unique to Luke.
With James and
John clearly modeling how not to be genuine disciples, Luke leads immediately
into three encounters Jesus has with prospective converts. Luke often combines
his travel sequences with dialogues and discussions on discipleship. In the
three pronouncement stories, Jesus discusses the startling requirements of true
discipleship. The Lukan text is repeatedly open-ended here. Each of the three
encounters ends with only Jesus' words. The reader never hears the response of
the inquirer or knows whether the would be disciple picks up or sets aside
Jesus' challenge to discipleship. The first two of these pronouncements
(vv.57-60) have parallels in Matthew 8:18-22, while the third highly
metaphorical dialogue is Luke's alone.
Luke 9: 57-62
encapsulate three encounters with would-be followers of Jesus. The conflict
that Luke emphasizes is so much a part of the prophetic ministry of Jesus is at
a much lower level than we will see in Jerusalem, now involving a set of
would-be disciples. In each instance, Jesus hardly gives the “politic” answer.
If any suspect that gathering a large band of devoted followers was part of the
impetus for his journey, Jesus squelches that possibility through surprisingly
hard, harsh-sounding, demanding retorts to the requests made of him. Jesus was
after quality, not quantity, in his disciples. At the very least, Jesus avoids
offering them what Bonhoeffer called "cheap grace." However, the
harshness of Jesus has some justification in the psychological phenomenon of emotion
becoming a substitute for actual action. That is, as commentator William
Barclay puts it, "Every time we have a fine feeling and do not act on it,
the less likely we are to act on it at all." Barclay gives the example of
having the impulse to write someone a sympathy note, but if we put it off until
tomorrow, the likelihood that we will ever write it drops significantly.
Jesus’ call to
follow him is demanding. We are part of a web of commitments and some of them
conflict with Jesus’ call to come and be part of the rule of God. We ought not
to make discipleship appear easier than it really is. Yet if we will commit
ourselves to him, if we will dare to follow, it is great grace to have our
little lives caught up in the adventure of the rule of God. In that sense, Jesus
would not have made a good parish minister today. The congregation would hear
hard sayings like "Those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake
of the gospel, will save it" (Mk 8:35), or like "Whoever comes to me
and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters,
even life itself, cannot be my disciple"
(Lk 14:26). Tough words, no doubt about it. Discipleship costs all that
we have, all that we love, all that we are. Moreover, Jesus does not want us to
be fooled about that.
57 As they were going along the
road, someone, the first potential disciples, boldly approaches Jesus and said to him, “I will follow you wherever
you go.” His declaration suggests a Jerusalem destination is in mind. One
might think of this encounter as the least confrontational but most confused of
the three encounters. Faced with the gift of an unsolicited but uncomprehending
follower, Jesus responds to the volunteer’s enthusiasm over apostolic mission
with an aphoristic rejoinder. 58 And
Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the
Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Jesus counters with a challenge
that rejects the notion that there is any definitive place to go. Jesus' poetic
parlay declares that any true disciple of his must be prepared to face
continued homelessness and rootlessness. The Samaritan village had just locked
out Jesus and his messengers they had tried to enter, necessitating their
unexpected return to the road as "they went on to another village."
The poetic nature of Jesus' answer reinforces the unique state of homelessness
the "Son of Man" experienced. One of only two pre-eschatological
sayings about the Son of Man, Jesus’ image of vermin and scavengers being more
secure in their provisions (foxholes and bird nests) than he, is hauntingly
precise. Homelessness and rejection, veritably epitomized by this vagrant
journey he has undertaken, is the mark of this Messiah’s ministry.[3]
The first would-be follower exposes enthusiasm while Jesus tells of sobering
reality. We do not know exactly what this first
would-be disciple is expecting, but he might be thinking that Jesus the Messiah
is going to be his meal ticket. To such dreams of comfort and affluence, Jesus
gives a rude wake-up call: “You want a life of luxury?” he seems to be asking.
“You’re looking in the wrong place.” The response of Jesus reminds some
first century historians of the Cynic philosophers who wandered about Galilee. Jesus describes the situation of every tramp
and street person. The son of man is to
lead a less civilized existence than the animals seen regularly at the edge of
ancient Galilean towns and villages. Cynic philosophers taught by precept and
example, noted for the simple life. They
walked without shoes, with long hair, a single garment, and frequently slept on
the ground. A pupil of Socrates founded
the school in the 400's and lasted until the 500's, being widely
influential. Such a background for Jesus
would be sufficiently distinctive to have attracted attention in Galilee.
The second and
third would-be disciples’ requests sound so reasonable and compassionate that
Jesus’ rebuffs seem even more startling.
Jesus approaches
the second would-be disciple. 59 To another he said, “Follow me.” But
he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” We do not know whether
the father was already dead, or more likely, whether he was asking to wait
until his father had died and he had properly fulfilled his filial duties.
Burying the dead was a duty of great importance in Jewish tradition. The
commandment to honor one's father and mother was included in fulfilling this
final act of respect and devotion. Even the pagan Romans expected filial
responsibilities to include properly burying one's father and mother. In
Judaism, all other normal religious obligation could be set aside in order for
anyone to perform the pious duty of burying the dead. 60 But Jesus said to him, in a little recognized display
of dark humor, “Let the dead bury their
own dead. In a transferred sense, the sinner is already dead.[4]
Those who stay behind are as dead as any corpses that need to receive burial.
However, as for you, who are not
among the dead, go and proclaim the
kingdom of God.” Put your energy into proclaiming
the kingdom of God, not into digging holes for dead bodies. One the one hand, if
ever there was a good excuse delaying discipleship, this second man surely
seems to have it. On the other hand, the words of Jesus draw the man out of his
safe, insular existence among his own people. The call to discipleship is the
dissolution of self-evident attachments between people, especially in family.
What Jesus seems to question is the impulsive intensity with which he allows
himself to embrace in this relationship. What Jesus questions is the
self-sufficiency of such relationships. He questions his imprisonment within
such relationships.[5]
As shocking as we perceive Jesus’ rebuke to this young man to be today, the
suggestion that one proclaims the kingdom to Jew and Gentile, rich and poor,
men and women, was even more scandalous among the highly stratified, segregated
peoples of Jesus’ age. Jesus would not allow the hesitant young inquirer to
excuse himself from the universality of the kingdom of God because he was busy
in his own little corner of the world. Further, this second encounter stresses
the element of sacrifice. The fifth commandment is to honor father and
mother. Honoring parents entailed seeing
to their proper burial. In this
injunction, Jesus is advising a potential follower to dishonor his father. This kind of behavior would not have been
socially acceptable. Yet in relation in
the claims of the kingdom of God, Jesus may have set normal obligations aside.
This saying is subversive. Implicitly,
it challenges the entire family-based patriarchal and kinship construction of
social relations in the ancient Mediterranean world by advocating complete
disregard for the filial duty of burial.
The fundamental social institution of the ancient Mediterranean world
was the household, at whose head stood the father. What we have here is instead simply
anti-social behavior. Are not social
continuity and the proper succession or passing on of generations as much at
issue? Is it really the animistic idea
of the restless dead and not rather the particular values of honor-shame
cultures like the ancient Mediterranean world that this story reveals? Are we really to imagine that Jesus' retort
finally represents religious enlightenment and the one true faith?
Luke's own third
example of a potential disciple's finding Jesus "too much" combines
some elements from the first two. 61
Another said, insisting from the outset, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first, tempering his offer, say farewell to those at my home.” The
notion of “following” describes someone who accompanies another, who takes the
same road as he does. It indicates the follower who respectfully walks behind a
master or prince, the scholar who strides along at a distance behind his
teacher. In this case, however, we have an example of one who views following
as an arbitrary action distinguished from the following at the call of Jesus.
Someone who just decides to do so shows he or she is already not suited for the
journey. The man lacked true discipleship as well because he made a condition.
Those who offer themselves to be disciples are obviously bound to be of the
opinion that they can lay down the conditions on which on which on which they
will do this. However, limited readiness is no readiness at all. He does not
really know what he has chosen.[6]62 Jesus said to him, “No one who
puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
Jesus gives the imminent rule of God priority over all other human duties and
concerns.[7]
The plowing metaphor Jesus describes as his response to this third disciple
wannabe appears to play on the story of the call of Elisha. Elisha is plowing
when Elijah calls him to follow. In response, Elisha asks permission to return
home and say good-bye to his father -- a request which may or may not be
granted according to this text (I Kings 19:20). Elijah’s response to Elisha’s
hesitation is much more subdued than Jesus’ retort to the similar question
posed in Luke 9:61-62. Elijah is intentionally ambiguous, neither approving nor
disapproving Elisha’s request for a farewell moment. Then, in Elijah’s
response, any doubt of commitment is washed away. The young man literally
“burns his bridges” behind him as he returns to the symbols of his old way of
life (the yoked oxen), sacrifices them, and then burns their equipment in order
to create the cooking fire for their flesh. Elisha takes the moments for
preparation granted him by Elijah as an opportunity to celebrate a highly
symbolic communion-type meal of farewell with his family. Jesus, however, turns
plowing into a metaphor that denies the very legitimacy of the request itself.
If one is to be a disciple, the call to the kingdom has first priority. All
other duties and demands are subordinate to it. Perhaps Jesus felt the breath
of the eschaton blowing down his neck, forcing him to speak sharply in order to
shake people’s sensibilities and awaken them to the demanding nature of the
life-and-death decisions they must make. Elijah had intentionally come to get
Elisha, passing the mantle of prophetic ministry on to him. Jesus, on the other
hand, was on a divinely ordained journey. His face was set toward Jerusalem.
Knowing the conflicts that were ahead, Jesus could not allow his followers to
take time for lingering fondly with family, remembering old times. God was
about to do something completely new, and those who would be a part of it must
face the future, their eyes fixed ahead to run a straight furrow, not
constantly looking back. In any case, the man rejects another Elijah image.
Following Jesus means devotion to kingdom work and transcends family ties. There is sacrifice of security, filial duty,
and family affection. Some would say that this saying reflects an advanced
stage of group development. The group
had achieved strong self-identity so that it could readily contrast its way of
life with the mode of behavior that followers left behind. In addition, the
image corresponds to themes in the Hebrew Bible: Lot's wife is destroyed when
she looks back in Genesis 19:26. The
metaphor stands for those who hanker after what they have left when they enter
upon a new stage of life.
Discipleship is difficult. The disciple places faith in
Jesus rather than the creature comforts this life might offer. Jesus challenges
followers to look ahead rather than to look back. At every stage of our lives,
the temptation is present to gaze to the past and wonder why our lives turned
out the way they did. We can second-guess ourselves. We can play “what-if”
games with the choices we have made. Such backward looks makes us unfit today
for the rule of God that seeks to shine through the word and deed of the
disciple. Looking ahead involves hope, from which will spring our happiness.
Moving forward with faith will bring fulfillment into our lives. Moving forward
with love will expand our sense of genuine community with family, neighbor, and
world.
Jesus challenges the second and third would-be disciples to
place priority upon participating in the rule of God that the prophetic
ministry of Jesus has initiated. We know what setting priorities and
committing to them means, of course. It is an assignment of relative importance
to the connections and matters of our lives, with the determination that no
matter how much effort and energy we put into the things or relationships lower
on the list, we will not do anything that knocks the main thing or relationship
out of first place. Jesus was talking about deciding what is the main thing
when he told these would-be disciples to put him first over whatever else was
clamoring for their attention. Jesus said the same thing in other words: "But strive first for the kingdom of God and
his righteousness, and all these things [i.e., the necessities of life] will be
given to you as well" (Matthew 6:33). Part of the problem, as preacher
Fred Craddock points out, is that what Jesus asks is that we give him
"priority over the best, not the worst, of human relationships. Jesus
never said to choose him over the devil but to choose him over the family."
At the same time, however, the overall message of Scripture does not seem to be
that we should eschew having a family or walk away from the loved ones who
count on us. At least, it does not say that for most of us.
Stan Purdum tells
of a traveling evangelist, complete with a large tent, setting up not far from
where he was pastoring a church at the time. Many people from the area attended
the tent services, in which the evangelist included an "altar call"
for people to come forward to accept Christ. After the evangelist moved on to
another place, his staff sent local pastors the names of people from their
communities who had made a "decision for Christ" so that the pastors
could follow up. Purdum received six names with addresses. They were all people
unknown to him, but he decided to visit them. He located all six, but in each
case, he found the individual backing away from his or her
"decision." Most seemed embarrassed about the matter. One teenage
girl said she only went forward because her friend did. One man said he just
was caught up in the emotions of the moment. Another said he already had a
church, and when Purdum encouraged him to attend there, the man said,
"Well, I might," but did not sound convincing. Purdum left his card
with each person, along with an invitation to visit his church or even just to
call him with questions, but he never heard from any of the six. Purdum
declines, however, to criticize these people. "Real discipleship is
demanding," he says, "and it takes a lot for a spur-of-the-moment
impulse to become a lifetime commitment.
Discipleship is
not easy. Jesus is honest. The conflict, in discipleship, is not between
choosing a self-evident good over a self-evident evil. The conflicts are real because they are
conflicts between one set of goods and another.
There is a certain
reluctance to make decisions. All of the
options may be right there in front of us, and they may all have good sides to
them. Nevertheless, eventually, one will
have to make a decision. That is where
"faith" comes into our daily experience, and we trust that God will
give us the guidance we need. I have
always thought of myself as a broad-minded person. Now, that can be good, but it can also be an
excuse for not making a decision, even when it comes to following Jesus Christ
and becoming a disciple. I could always
think of many intellectual reasons why I should not give myself unreservedly to
Jesus. I could always see the validity
of other religions and the genuine beauty there. Moreover, I could reason that I should not
commit myself to any one religion. Then,
of course, there are all the arguments against believing in a God at all, which
my reading exposed me to at an early age.
Nevertheless, there came a time when I had to make a decision. Even if I had not answered all the
intellectual questions I had, I still had to make a decision. Why?
Because I felt the call of God upon my life. At that point, it was either dismiss the call
and go my own way, or give myself to God.
I invite you to
reflect with me for a moment upon the movie Jerry
McGuire, starring Tom Cruise. At the
beginning of the movie, Jerry is in a rat race of a job as a sports agent,
representing spoiled, overpaid athletes, living off their sports talent. One night, in a sort of breakdown, Jerry,
after tossing and turning in sleeplessness, jumps out of bed, turns on his
computer, and writes a long mission statement in which he criticizes what his
job has become and makes some rather radical proposals for reform. He copies the memo and has it put in the
mailboxes of all of his coworkers. When
he timidly enters the office the next day, he receives a warm, standing ovation
for his act of courage and vision.
“Thank God you said it,” one of his coworkers says. In one week, his boss fired him and his
friends isolated themselves from him. He is out on the street. His life is a shambles. What I liked about the movie was the realism,
the honesty of this first scene. You
stand up for what is right, speak up for the truth, and there may be a high
cost involved. The movie had the courage
not to romanticize or sentimentalize the role of the courageous reformer. Luke invites us to refuse to romanticize or
sentimentalize the role of the disciple of Jesus. Give the gospel of Luke credit. It does not depict following Jesus in a way
that is unreal. Following Jesus is not
easy. Sometimes the choices he asks us
to make are tough. If you are a follower
of Jesus, in one way or another, we are those who have said to Jesus, “I will
follow you.” Sometimes we have been
faithful; sometimes we have not.
I came across the
story of King Henry III, in 11th century Bavaria. He grew tired of being a monarch. He finally applied to Prior Richard at a
local monastery to be accepted as a monk and spend the rest of his life in the
monastery. "Your Majesty, do you
understand that the pledge there is one of obedience? That will be hard because you have been a
king." The king replied, "I
understand. The rest of my life I will
be obedient to you, as Christ leads you."
Prior Richard responded, "Then I will tell you what to do. Go back to your throne and serve faithfully
in the place where God has put you."
When the king died, the statement was written: "The king learned to
rule by being obedient."
Phoebe Palmer was
a good Methodist living in the 1840's to the 1860's. She was a holiness evangelist. Now, you might think that meant she just
preached to get people converted. Not
so. She started one of the most
successful mission projects of that century, called the Five Points
Mission. She started in New York, taking
an old brewery and turning it into a home for the homeless and involving job
training. News spread, and over the years,
they spread to many of the large cities in our land. Further, this was nothing in comparison to
the anti-slavery campaigns, the campaigns for prison reform, and many other
things which religions people got involved in.[8]
I conclude with a hymn by William Cowper, from an 1879
Methodist Hymnal.
O Lord! my best desire fulfil,
and help me to resign
Life, health, and comfort to thy will,
and make thy pleasure
mine.
Why should I shrink at the command,
Whose love forbids my
fears?
Or tremble at the gracious hand
That wipes away my
tears?
No! rather let me freely yield
What most I prize to
thee,
Who never hast a good withheld,
Or wilt withhold from
me.
Thy favor, all my journey through,
Shall be my rich
supply;
What else I want, or think I do,
Let wisdom still deny.
[1]
(Jack Dean Kingsbury, “The Plot of Luke’s Story of Jesus,” Interpretation,
October 1994, 369-373).
[2]
Lord, wilt thou that we command fire to come down from heaven, and consume
them?” asked the disciples. Oh, you disciples! You think that anyone who does
not accept Jesus is going straight to hell, and if he won’t give Jesus lodging,
you say, “To the devil with you.” Observe from this passage that the Holy
Spirit has a hard time to cool the intemperate zeal of the godly. Christ said,
“Just remember whose children you are, namely, children of the Holy Spirit, a
spirit of peace and not dissension.” Peter in the Garden forgot that and Christ
told him to put up his sword into the scabbard, because this was not the time
to fight but to suffer. The Holy Spirit was silent when Christ was reviled and
crucified. We are to be of a meek spirit, for the meek shall inherit the earth.
This does not mean that we are to be silent when the truth is assailed. We do
not fight the wicked because of their lives, but when they revile the word, we
cannot be silent, but must speak. We are not, however, to be like James and
John, wishing vengeance to descend upon the godless and the tyrants. In that
case, we are murderers. If God can suffer then, why cannot we? Christ displayed
enough zeal when he cried: “Woe unto thee, Chorazin! Woe unto thee, Bethsaida!”
He tempered his tone when he added, “I praise thee, Father, Lord of heaven and
earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and revealed
them unto babes.” So also we should say: “Why should I be so hot? God will have
it so.” We are to take care not to put in our hand. God does not need our
fighting. Here we are to suffer and leave vengeance to the Lord. Otherwise we
have a bad spirit. (The Martin Luther Easter Book [Philadelphia:
Fortress Press, 1983], pp. 15–16.)
[3] (For
the wildlife imagery see Mahlon H. Smith, “No Place for a Son of Man,” Forum, 4
[December 1988], 83-105).
[4]
Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 2,
266.
[5]
Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV.3 [71.3]
550.
[6]
Barth, Church Dogmatics I.2 [16.2]
277, IV.2 [66.3] 536.
[7]
Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume
2, 329.
[8]
Timothy Smith, Revivalism and Social Reform, 169-172.
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