Reading Francis

Peace or sword? Which is it?

There’s a gospel reading that popped up for daily Mass today (Monday, July 15) that I’ve never much cared for:

Jesus said to his Apostles: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace upon the earth. I have come to bring not peace but the sword.” He goes on to say “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.” (Matthew 10:34-38)

That’s not an easy message to take in, though it seems like it captures the mood of this combustible moment.

I think that’s because we have an idolatry problem. 

We meaning me. We meaning America. We meaning everybody, I suspect.

When I say “idolatry,” I don’t mean old-school statues to Ba’al or golden calves. I mean anything that, if we sub it into the “Whoever loves…more than me” formula, we can’t say we love more than Love Himself.

I have a bunch of things that reveal me to be an idolator when I put them into this formula. Do I love my wife and daughter more than God? Yeah, for sure. How about my own pride, ego, and control? Yeah, I love those more than God too.

What about our political party? Our sports team? Our country? Do we love these more than God? It already seems like we in America have chosen our partisan stripes over our brother and sister in ways more fundamental than typical sibling rivalry. 

We are also idolators when we tack other stuff onto the “me” in the “Whoever loves…more than me.” What about our Church? We talk a lot about different brands of belief: Catholic and evangelical and Protestant, traditional and conservative and progressive and patriotic, even. Do we love our brand of following God more than we love God Himself? It seems like we would rather have a version of god that likes our politics and our country (and our football team), and hates the other guys, even if that’s not the one that shows up in the Bible talking about loving your enemy and caring for the left out.

The “peace or sword” thing is especially challenging when you look ahead to next Sunday’s Mass readings. If today’s Jesus is all about the sword and division, look ahead. Jeremiah says “Woe to the shepherds who mislead and scatter the flock of my pasture, says the Lord.” Jeremiah goes on to say that God “will appoint shepherds for them who will shepherd them so that they need no longer fear and tremble; and none shall be missing, says the Lord.” The Psalm Sunday is Psalm 23, “The Lord is my shepherd,” all about peace that fears no evil. “Only goodness and kindness follow me all the days of my life,” it says at the end. Then St. Paul in Ephesians 2: “For [Christ] is our peace, he who made both [the far off and near] one and broke down the dividing wall of enmity, … establishing peace. … He came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near.” And the Gospel Mark 6, has Jesus trying to pull his gang away to rest a while, because they were so inundated by crowds. When He realizes that the crowds have followed Him, “his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd.”

So which is it? Peace or sword?

The shepherd Jeremiah says God wants for people is one that conquers fear and trembling and lets nobody go missing. The God that Paul touts breaks down walls of enmity and preaches peace to far and near. The Jesus that Mark finds has a heart moved with pity.

That kind of God wouldn’t be universally popular here right now. A bunch of us are all-in on fear, addicted to media that induce trembling as a business model. We want the people who are far from us – politically, ethnically, religiously – to stay that way; we might rather they go away altogether, especially if we’re convinced that they are intent on destroying everything we love. If someone were to say that your politics was idolatrous, or that your patriotism was crowding out God, or that God deserves more of your energy than your football team, well, that person might really lose a couple friends and maybe a sibling or two. They’d also have a hard time finding a welcoming community of fellow believers. Maybe that’s the sword that a Gospel of peace brings today, one we swing for ourselves.

Personally, I’m pretty tired of the idols; (frankly, I’m just tired, period). I would rather just picnic by a pool in the grass somewhere than watch us continue to gouge out each other’s eyes. 

It takes a lot of work, I’ve found, to root out the addictions to fear and accept those who are far and near. It takes practice to grow a heart that can be moved by people I don’t agree with, and I still struggle with that. The temples to the gods of pride and control and distraction are harder to quit than a gym membership.

Maybe you think this is unrealistic, pie-in-the-sky stuff. Maybe you think abandoning these temples to perpetually angry gods is complicity with your enemy. 

Me, I’m ready for some goodness and kindness to follow me around for a while. The only way I know out of this mess is to choose Love, not Fear, whether it’s realistic or not. I’m going to keep trying to abandon those temples to the idols I’ve subscribed to for too long. You can keep the sword.