1 Kings 19:15-16, 19-21
Then the Lord said to [Elijah,] “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus; when you arrive, you shall anoint Hazael as king over Aram. Also you shall anoint Jehu son of Nimshi as king over Israel; and you shall anoint Elisha son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah as prophet in your place.
Then the Lord said to [Elijah,] “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus; when you arrive, you shall anoint Hazael as king over Aram. Also you shall anoint Jehu son of Nimshi as king over Israel; and you shall anoint Elisha son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah as prophet in your place.
So he set out from there, and found Elisha son of Shaphat, who was plowing. There were twelve yoke of oxen ahead of him, and he was with the twelfth. Elijah passed by him and threw his mantle over him. He left the oxen, ran after Elijah, and said, “Let me kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow you.” Then Elijah said to him, “Go back again; for what have I done to you?” He returned from following him, took the yoke of oxen, and slaughtered them; using the equipment from the oxen, he boiled their flesh, and gave it to the people, and they ate. Then he set out and followed Elijah, and became his servant.
Psalm 16
Protect me, O God, for I take refuge in you;
I have said to the Lord, “You are my Lord, my good above all other.”
All my delight is in the godly that are in the land,
upon those who are noble among the people.
But those who run after other gods
shall have their troubles multiplied.
I will not pour out drink offerings to such gods,
never take their names upon my lips.
O Lord, you are my portion and my cup;
it is you who uphold my lot.
My boundaries enclose a pleasant land;
indeed, I have a rich inheritance.
I will bless the Lord who gives me counsel;
my heart teaches me night after night.
I have set the Lord al- ways before me;
because God is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.
My heart, therefore, is glad, and my spirit rejoices;
my body also shall rest in hope.
For you will not abandon me to the grave,
nor let your holy one see the pit.
You will show me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
I have said to the Lord, “You are my Lord, my good above all other.”
All my delight is in the godly that are in the land,
upon those who are noble among the people.
But those who run after other gods
shall have their troubles multiplied.
I will not pour out drink offerings to such gods,
never take their names upon my lips.
O Lord, you are my portion and my cup;
it is you who uphold my lot.
My boundaries enclose a pleasant land;
indeed, I have a rich inheritance.
I will bless the Lord who gives me counsel;
my heart teaches me night after night.
I have set the Lord al- ways before me;
because God is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.
My heart, therefore, is glad, and my spirit rejoices;
my body also shall rest in hope.
For you will not abandon me to the grave,
nor let your holy one see the pit.
You will show me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
Galatians 5:1, 13-25
For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” If, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.
Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit, and what the Spirit desires is opposed to the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you want. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not subject to the law. Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.
By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.
Luke 9:51-62
When the days drew near for [Jesus] to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem. 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?” But he turned and rebuked them. Then they went on to another village.
As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” 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.” To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” But Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
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When the disciples saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?”
Can we be totally honest? We are living in some particularly despairing and troubling times. Not that humankind hasn’t experienced tragedy and suffering for the whole of our existence, but things seem particularly fraught at this moment.
Recent months have brought us news of one mass shooting after another, and ongoing random and senseless acts of violence, all the while a senseless war in Eastern Europe taking place in the background.
Pandemic continues to cycle around us; every time it feels as if we are moving beyond it, a new wave of cases spikes, and we are trying to stay healthy while keeping our economy afloat; trying to balance risk and responsibility.
The economy is uncertain, inflation is high, there is a serious labor shortage, leaving so many of us working as hard or harder than we were pre-pandemic, but with less energy, fewer resources, and seriously depleted stores of both physical and emotional energy.
There is enormous grief, fear, and uncertainty raging right now in the wake of a Supreme Court decision that reveals the complicated intersection of moral deliberation, judicial power, and justice for women and especially women of color. While some celebrate, others feel anxious about ominous precedent, fear for their health, or are reliving moments of personal grief and trauma in their own reproductive health history.
And dare we even mention the political climate in which this is all transpiring? We are far past a time where political parties represented different ideologies and policies for how to accomplish the same goals for the sake of the common good. We are now as divided as ever, unable to view political opponents as anything other than monsters; we care less about the common good and more about our side “winning,” and none of it is done with the level of humility, grace, or compassion that we all deserve.
Too many of us are scared. Too many of us are hurting. Too many of us feel rage and despair and helplessness, all at once.
When the disciples saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?”
I can’t quite tell if the disciples today are being genuine or melodramatic in this request to obliterate a village of religious and cultural opponents that refused to show them hospitality. Either way, maybe we can relate to them right now.
The root of their desire to “burn it all down” isn’t too different than the feelings of the prophet Elijah, who, shortly before today’s story in 1 Kings, fled to the wilderness in fear and despair. He wanted to escape Jezebel’s wrath, but also to run away from his prophetic vocation, which felt just too heavy for him to bear. Feeling defeated, he parked himself under a solitary broom tree and prayed, “It is enough, O God, just take my life now.” This sounds a lot like the prophet Jonah, who also found himself in the wilderness under the shade of a singular piece of foliage, and who also, out of resentment and anger, prayed to God, “take my life; it is better to die than to live.”
Can we be totally honest? We are living in some particularly despairing and troubling times. Not that humankind hasn’t experienced tragedy and suffering for the whole of our existence, but things seem particularly fraught at this moment.
Recent months have brought us news of one mass shooting after another, and ongoing random and senseless acts of violence, all the while a senseless war in Eastern Europe taking place in the background.
Pandemic continues to cycle around us; every time it feels as if we are moving beyond it, a new wave of cases spikes, and we are trying to stay healthy while keeping our economy afloat; trying to balance risk and responsibility.
The economy is uncertain, inflation is high, there is a serious labor shortage, leaving so many of us working as hard or harder than we were pre-pandemic, but with less energy, fewer resources, and seriously depleted stores of both physical and emotional energy.
There is enormous grief, fear, and uncertainty raging right now in the wake of a Supreme Court decision that reveals the complicated intersection of moral deliberation, judicial power, and justice for women and especially women of color. While some celebrate, others feel anxious about ominous precedent, fear for their health, or are reliving moments of personal grief and trauma in their own reproductive health history.
And dare we even mention the political climate in which this is all transpiring? We are far past a time where political parties represented different ideologies and policies for how to accomplish the same goals for the sake of the common good. We are now as divided as ever, unable to view political opponents as anything other than monsters; we care less about the common good and more about our side “winning,” and none of it is done with the level of humility, grace, or compassion that we all deserve.
Too many of us are scared. Too many of us are hurting. Too many of us feel rage and despair and helplessness, all at once.
When the disciples saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?”
I can’t quite tell if the disciples today are being genuine or melodramatic in this request to obliterate a village of religious and cultural opponents that refused to show them hospitality. Either way, maybe we can relate to them right now.
The root of their desire to “burn it all down” isn’t too different than the feelings of the prophet Elijah, who, shortly before today’s story in 1 Kings, fled to the wilderness in fear and despair. He wanted to escape Jezebel’s wrath, but also to run away from his prophetic vocation, which felt just too heavy for him to bear. Feeling defeated, he parked himself under a solitary broom tree and prayed, “It is enough, O God, just take my life now.” This sounds a lot like the prophet Jonah, who also found himself in the wilderness under the shade of a singular piece of foliage, and who also, out of resentment and anger, prayed to God, “take my life; it is better to die than to live.”
These dramatic (almost to the point of absurd) statements of despair all remind me of a hymn parody that a friend sent my way recently; tongue-in-cheek text set to the familiar hymn tune, OLD HUNDREDTH:
Send us thine asteroid, O Lord!
Thy vengeance be on us outpoured!
Engulf the earth in flame and fire.
Obliteration we require.
(It continues for two more verses…)
Burn it all down, God.
Take me now.
Send an asteroid.
Destroy it all.
These are all the sorts of things that we pray (or sing) when we feel like we have run out of options; when we have run out of reasons or energy to hope.
Just burn it all down, God.
Jesus rebukes the disciples for this attitude - which we’ll talk about in a moment - but I think that it is important to remember and affirm that a “burn it all down” prayer is as faithful a prayer of despairing hearts as any other prayer. And we need to remember, in this season of Pentecost, that the Holy Spirit is many things, holy fire being one of them.
Two years ago, fires raged in Minneapolis after the killing of George Floyd.
Send us thine asteroid, O Lord!
Thy vengeance be on us outpoured!
Engulf the earth in flame and fire.
Obliteration we require.
(It continues for two more verses…)
Burn it all down, God.
Take me now.
Send an asteroid.
Destroy it all.
These are all the sorts of things that we pray (or sing) when we feel like we have run out of options; when we have run out of reasons or energy to hope.
Just burn it all down, God.
Jesus rebukes the disciples for this attitude - which we’ll talk about in a moment - but I think that it is important to remember and affirm that a “burn it all down” prayer is as faithful a prayer of despairing hearts as any other prayer. And we need to remember, in this season of Pentecost, that the Holy Spirit is many things, holy fire being one of them.
Two years ago, fires raged in Minneapolis after the killing of George Floyd.
In one hand, we held the deep desire to lament and resist violence and destruction.
In our other hand, we held Martin Luther King’s words, “It is not enough for me to stand before you tonight and condemn riots. It would be morally irresponsible for me to do that without, at the same time, condemning the contingent, intolerable conditions that exist in our society. These conditions are the things that cause individuals to feel that they have no other alternative than to engage in violent rebellions to get attention. And I must say tonight that a riot is the language of the unheard.” (Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Grosse Pointe High School, March 14, 1968)
When you have run out of ways to cry out — when your cries of despair and your cries for justice have gone unnoticed — what do you do when there is nothing left except to set the world on fire?
And indeed, what is the fire of the Holy Spirit that we celebrate at Pentecost if it is not a fire that burns away the chaff of our broken and sinful hearts, a fire that lands equally on the heads of all of God's children, blessing and claiming them as whole and loved individuals, without qualification? What is the fire of the Holy Spirit if not the roaring, destructive, unpredictable fire of God, getting our attention, lighting up our hearts and minds, inciting us to seek justice and holy liberation for all God’s people?
In Madeleine L’Engle’s book A Wrinkle in Time, there’s a critical moment in the action where the teenage protagonist is advised, “Stay angry, little Meg…You will need all your anger now.”
Anger - not for anger’s sake; not for spite or resentment.
When you have run out of ways to cry out — when your cries of despair and your cries for justice have gone unnoticed — what do you do when there is nothing left except to set the world on fire?
And indeed, what is the fire of the Holy Spirit that we celebrate at Pentecost if it is not a fire that burns away the chaff of our broken and sinful hearts, a fire that lands equally on the heads of all of God's children, blessing and claiming them as whole and loved individuals, without qualification? What is the fire of the Holy Spirit if not the roaring, destructive, unpredictable fire of God, getting our attention, lighting up our hearts and minds, inciting us to seek justice and holy liberation for all God’s people?
In Madeleine L’Engle’s book A Wrinkle in Time, there’s a critical moment in the action where the teenage protagonist is advised, “Stay angry, little Meg…You will need all your anger now.”
Anger - not for anger’s sake; not for spite or resentment.
Anger that brings energy. Anger that motivates Meg, and us, to keep moving forward. Anger that pushes us not just to say, “God’s will be done,” but to be part of making it happen. Anger that doesn’t shut us down, but anger that keeps us going.
This is why Jesus rebukes the disciples in today’s gospel. Because for them, their anger is not motivating them in their walk of discipleship, it is distracting them from the critical work at hand.
This is why Jesus rebukes the disciples in today’s gospel. Because for them, their anger is not motivating them in their walk of discipleship, it is distracting them from the critical work at hand.
Jesus has set his face toward Jerusalem. Jerusalem is where Jesus will meet his own suffering and death for the sake of the world that he loves. Walking to Jerusalem symbolizes staying the course on his mission, moving forward in his holy work, and staying laser-focused on his mission, even if these things mean certain death.
And what is his mission? As we recall from Luke chapter 4: to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives, to bring healing to the ailing, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim jubilee justice and joy for all.
An inhospitable village will not sway him from this mission. Neither will a lack of creature comforts nor disputes with religious leaders nor storms at sea nor bickering disciples nor crowds that grumble at him for eating at the “wrong” tables.
Jesus is single-heartedly devoted to the liberating work of God’s kingdom, and he expects his followers to be of the same mind and heart. To be equally as urgent in pursuing the kingdom and what it's all about.
This kingdom of God is about passionately defending the image of God in each human sibling on this earth, and about proclaiming God’s inestimable grace for each of us, equally and without limit. The kingdom of God is about flipping the script on power - who holds it, how you get it, how you use it. The kingdom of God is about loving deeply enough to bear one another’s burdens; loving fiercely enough to seek healing and liberation for others because their pain has become our own.
Paul writes to the Galatians, You were called to freedom, siblings in Christ; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
Paul continues, If…you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.
Even in our anger, we do not get to destroy one another. Even in our anger, even in our despair, we are bound to one another through the law of love.
We are bound to our siblings of color.
We are bound to those most in need of unrestricted and free access to health care.
We are bound to those across the political aisle from us, even if the aisle they days feels as vast as the Grand Canyon.
We are bound to those in need of the full range of reproductive care.
We are bound to those rejoicing and to those protesting in front of the Supreme Court building.
We are bound to our queer and trans siblings celebrating Pride and fearing the future of their rights and relationships.
We are bound to one another, sitting here in this sanctuary, and in our community.
Whatever needs to be burned down in this world, let it be fire that does not consume, but fire that, like forest fires, burns open new seeds, from which will grow fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
Whatever fires burn in our hearts, let them be fires of justice and not of spite.
Whatever fires we pray for, let them be fires of the Spirit, filled with trust and hope that God will yet turn our despair into joy, and our fear into peace, and our conflict into reconciliation, and our brokenness into wholeness.
In the midst of all the fears and terror of our world, stay angry, dear ones. But also keep the faith.
For as the Psalmist sings, “God, you will not abandon us to the grave, nor let your holy ones see the pit. You will show us the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand our pleasure forever more.”
May we trust this to be true, and may the fires of hope never cease to burn in our hearts.
And what is his mission? As we recall from Luke chapter 4: to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives, to bring healing to the ailing, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim jubilee justice and joy for all.
An inhospitable village will not sway him from this mission. Neither will a lack of creature comforts nor disputes with religious leaders nor storms at sea nor bickering disciples nor crowds that grumble at him for eating at the “wrong” tables.
Jesus is single-heartedly devoted to the liberating work of God’s kingdom, and he expects his followers to be of the same mind and heart. To be equally as urgent in pursuing the kingdom and what it's all about.
This kingdom of God is about passionately defending the image of God in each human sibling on this earth, and about proclaiming God’s inestimable grace for each of us, equally and without limit. The kingdom of God is about flipping the script on power - who holds it, how you get it, how you use it. The kingdom of God is about loving deeply enough to bear one another’s burdens; loving fiercely enough to seek healing and liberation for others because their pain has become our own.
Paul writes to the Galatians, You were called to freedom, siblings in Christ; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
Paul continues, If…you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.
Even in our anger, we do not get to destroy one another. Even in our anger, even in our despair, we are bound to one another through the law of love.
We are bound to our siblings of color.
We are bound to those most in need of unrestricted and free access to health care.
We are bound to those across the political aisle from us, even if the aisle they days feels as vast as the Grand Canyon.
We are bound to those in need of the full range of reproductive care.
We are bound to those rejoicing and to those protesting in front of the Supreme Court building.
We are bound to our queer and trans siblings celebrating Pride and fearing the future of their rights and relationships.
We are bound to one another, sitting here in this sanctuary, and in our community.
Whatever needs to be burned down in this world, let it be fire that does not consume, but fire that, like forest fires, burns open new seeds, from which will grow fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
Whatever fires burn in our hearts, let them be fires of justice and not of spite.
Whatever fires we pray for, let them be fires of the Spirit, filled with trust and hope that God will yet turn our despair into joy, and our fear into peace, and our conflict into reconciliation, and our brokenness into wholeness.
In the midst of all the fears and terror of our world, stay angry, dear ones. But also keep the faith.
For as the Psalmist sings, “God, you will not abandon us to the grave, nor let your holy ones see the pit. You will show us the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand our pleasure forever more.”
May we trust this to be true, and may the fires of hope never cease to burn in our hearts.