And it came to pass, when the time was come that he should be received up, he steadfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem,

And sent messengers before his face: and they went, and entered into a village of the Samaritans, to make ready for him.

And they did not receive him, because his face was as though he would go to Jerusalem.

And when his disciples James and John saw this, they said, Lord, wilt thou that we command fire to come down from heaven, and consume them, even as Elias did?

But he turned, and rebuked them, and said, Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of.

For the Son of man is not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them. And they went to another village.

And it came to pass, that, as they went in the way, a certain man said unto him, Lord, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest.

And Jesus said unto him, Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.

And he said unto another, Follow me. But he said, Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father.

Jesus said unto him, Let the dead bury their dead: but go thou and preach the kingdom of God.

And another also said, Lord, I will follow thee; but let me first go bid them farewell, which are at home at my house.

When we read the story of Jesus' meeting with the Samaritan woman at the well, we learned that Jews and Samaritans generally hated each other. Samaritans were a mixed race of Jews and Gentiles, considered impure by other Jews. Jesus, of course, was a Jew, but He loved everyone because He was also God. And, unlike most Jews who traveled from Galilee to Judea by taking a long route that bypassed Samaria altogether, once again we read of Jesus journeying right through the heart of that region.

On His way, an entire Samaritan village refused to accommodate Him and His disciples only because they were Jews on the way to Jerusalem. This infuriated the two brothers, James and John, who consequently asked Jesus if they should call fire down from heaven on that Samaritan village, just as Elijah had once done upon a band of enemy soldiers. They felt the Samaritans should die for their offense.

Jesus rebuked both brothers for their attitude, saying (according to some manuscripts), "You don't realize what your hearts are like. For the Son of Man has not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them."

Like James and John, we sometimes think that God should immediately kill sinful people, and wonder why He doesn't. The reason is because He is so merciful and longsuffering. God is so merciful that He wants to give them plenty of time to repent. He knows that their fate is permanently sealed at death, and that hell awaits the unrepentant. Certainly Jesus wasn't pleased by the hatred of the people in that village, but He knew that they were acting just like most Jews acted toward Samaritans. In fact, His own disciples were no different than the unaccommodating Samaritans. If the Samaritan villagers deserved to be burned with fire for their prejudice, so did James and John!

In the second portion of today's reading we learn that, just like today, there were many people in Jesus' time who wanted to follow Him on their own terms. And, like today, those people disqualified themselves from being Jesus' true followers. Luke related three examples of such people.

The first man claimed he would follow Jesus no matter where He went. Jesus warned the man that he was making a vow that might be difficult for him to keep, because He had no place of His own to sleep each night. He and His disciples slept out in the open or relied on the hospitality of sympathetic friends. Of course, followers of Jesus today don't need to literally follow Him from place to place, but they, too, should first count the cost before becoming His disciples. Too many people want to follow Jesus as long as it doesn't inconvenience them. Consequently, they may think they've become His disciples, but they really haven't.

The second man agreed to be Jesus' disciple, but requested that he first return home to bury his father. It seems unlikely that his father had just died and that he just wanted to attend the funeral. More probable is that his father was elderly and could die at any time. So he wanted to delay his decision to follow the Lord. But the decision to delay following Jesus is a decision not to follow Jesus, because Jesus is calling everyone to follow Him now.

The third man also agreed to follow Jesus, but requested that he first say good-bye to his family. There is, of course, nothing wrong with saying good-bye to your family, but it seems Jesus knew this particular man was actually hesitating to follow through on his decision to become a follower and wanted to think about it for a while with the help of his family. The man had "put his hand to the plow" in the field, about to begin plowing, but was looking back toward his home, asking himself if he really wouldn't prefer to head back there and rest. Jesus expects that people who pledge allegiance to Him will follow through with their commitment.

Q. Jesus obviously expects us to be more devoted to Him than to anyone else, even our family members. What does this tell us about Him?

A. It tells us that Jesus is God, because only God has a right to expect us to be more devoted to Him than to our own families! It also tells us that we had better be more devoted to Him than to anyone else.

Application:

All three men we read about today verbalized a commitment to follow Jesus. But the real mark of a follower of Jesus is not what he says, but what he does. Those who aren't willing to make any sacrifice for Christ's cause, or who indicate that they will follow Him in the future, or who hesitate in following through with their promise are fooling themselves.

by Rev. Bryan Findlayson

Gospel: Luke 9:51-62

Introduction

The central theme of chapters 9:51 through to 10:42 is the meaning and acceptance of the kingdom's message. In our passage for study we look at the first two episodes, namely Jesus' rejection in Samaria, and the cost of discipleship. These two stories tell us that the message of the kingdom concerns deliverance, not judgement, and that gaining this deliverance must take priority in our life.

The passage

v51-53. The Samaritans, who were half-cast Jews, were despised by the Jews. The Samaritans didn't much like the Jews either, and so when Jewish pilgrims had to pass through Samaria, journeying to Jerusalem, abuse, and sometimes violence, resulted. For this reason, a Jew would normally try to skirt around Samaria when heading for Jerusalem, but the picture we get here is of Jesus' need to press on toward his destiny. The disciples set out to organize lodgings in a nearby village, but the locals sense Jesus' agitation to be on his way to Jerusalem and this only provokes racial hostility.

v54. As usual, the disciples have missed the point, and so they ask Jesus whether they can call for an Elijah type judgement upon the village.

v55-56. Jesus' rebuke exposes the disciples' failure to understand the nature of his journey, which, despite their lack of perception, continues. Jesus was heading for the cross and thus, the deliverance of those enslaved by sin. Even the Samaritans were to share in this salvation.

v57. Again in travel mode, Jesus presses on toward Jerusalem. Luke wants us to see the journey within the context of Jesus moving toward the cross. So, on the way Jesus meets three candidates for discipleship, three people who want to join with Jesus on the journey. The first and third candidates volunteer, the second is invited.

v58. Jesus tests the commitment of the first candidate, as he does the others, telling him that discipleship is not for fair-weather friends. With the first candidate, Jesus calls for a commitment to the deliverance gained by the lowly suffering servant. Those wanting to follow the Son of Man must accept a humiliated, not a glorious messiah.

v59-60. With the second candidate, Jesus exposes his natural reluctance to commit. Religious duty demands that a dead relative be buried. Left unburied, all the relatives would be ceremonially unclean. Yet, Jesus' retort is that the "dead" (in the sense of those who do not, and will not, share the resurrection life of Christ - the spiritually dead) can be left to bury the physically dead. A disciple must commit to the mission of making known the good news of the kingdom, which of course, has nothing to do, one way or the other, with attending, or not attending, a funeral. Leaving aside excuses, it's commit to the mission, or go away.

v61-62. With the third candidate, Jesus again confronts a potential disciple, hesitant and in two minds. Visiting, or not visiting, one's parents has nothing to do with a decision for Christ. What is necessary is a clear decision, because a person in two minds doesn't have the aptitude for kingdom service. The imagery here comes from Elijah's call of Elisha, 1Ki.19:20ff.

Following Jesus

"The privilege and the seriousness of following Christ are of such tremendous magnitude that there is no room for excuse, for compromise with the world, or for half-heartedness. What a challenge and inspiration to know that He who calls us to complete devotion and loyalty, Himself followed wholeheartedly the road of self-denial - yea, even to the death of the cross!"
- N. Geldenhuys.

Oh dear! such devotion and loyalty I do not possess, and I fear, I will never possess. Am I then lost before the throne of my God? Am I then that unfaithful servant without hope? Am I the forsaken one? Luther felt that he was the forsaken one and so mouthed the words "my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Yet, he came to realize that it was "Christ forsaken for me." Christ has taken the punishment due me, and in its place has bestowed upon me his worthiness. My salvation does not depend on my worthiness as a disciple, but on Christ's worthiness.

Here lies the point of our passage. Jesus set his face toward Jerusalem, toward a cross and empty tomb. In this is deliverance for lost humanity. So, we are asked to rely on the humiliated Christ and the absurdity of the claim that he has risen from the dead, and that in his resurrection there is life eternal for lost humanity. The question is, are we willing to rely wholeheartedly on him for our salvation, or are we hesitant and in two minds? When it comes to a disciple's interaction with the world, communicating the gospel is of such importance that it dictates many of life's decisions. A potential disciple, hesitant in their decision for Christ, is simply not suitable for kingdom service.

Let us remind ourselves of the need to commit wholeheartedly to the deliverance achieved for us by Christ in his death and resurrection.

Discussion

"Creatively" discuss the many possible meanings of v62 and compare them with the idea that this verse simply calls for a single minded reliance on Christ for salvation.

By Prof. Alyce M. McKenzie

"No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God" (Lk 9:62).

This saying of Jesus has given rise to a proverb, often quoted in communities struggling for justice: "Keep your hand on the plow and hold on!"

Haven't we all, at one time or another, put our hand to the plow and looked back?

We're in good company at such times. On January 27, 1956, a young pastor sat in his kitchen in Montgomery, Alabama holding a cup of coffee, unable to sleep. The bus boycott seemed to be collapsing. His own life had been repeatedly threatened. Earlier in the evening, a caller had warned, "If you aren't out of this town in three days, we're going to blow your brains out and blow up your house." Then, as Martin Luther King, Jr. later recounted:

. . . I bowed down over that cup of coffee . . . I prayed a prayer and I prayed out loud that night. I said, "Lord, I'm down here trying to do what's right. I think I'm right. I think the cause we represent is right. But Lord I must confess that I'm weak now. I'm faltering. I'm losing my courage. And I can't let the people see me like this because if they see me weak and losing my courage, they will begin to get weak." He needed the word of this proverb. "Keep your hand on the plow..."
(Samuel Freeman, Upon This Rock, 143).

A pastor in the 1980s tells of a small Presbyterian church that caught a fresh vision of the ministry it could offer to a rural region of intense need. Enthusiasm surged at first and then crashed. After just eighteen months the congregation's Elders petitioned the denomination to close the church's doors. "We're exhausted. We just don't have the resources to do what we thought we could" (Stephen Doughty, "Glimpsing Glimpses," 43). They needed the word of this proverb "Keep your hand on the plow..."

"Jump at de sun—and you might at least catch hold to de moon," Lucy Potts Hurston, mother of Zora Neale Hurston, told her (Carlin Romano, "A Daughter of Florida," The Philadelphia Inquirer, February 19, 1995).

After her mother's death, Zora was passed from relative to relative and had to make her own way in the world, in a lifelong battle against what has been called the "triple oppression" of black women: economic, racial, and gender. She became a novelist, folklorist, and anthropologist, one of the most prominent black women writers of the Harlem literary Renaissance between the World Wars. Then, her work devalued by her male literary colleagues and patronized by white publishers and unjustly accused of molesting a young boy, her life and career went into free fall. She moved back to Florida where she eked out a living as a maid, library clerk, substitute teacher, and freelance writer. Poor, discouraged, and weary of rejection letters, she wrote to her agent, "Just inching along like a stepped-on worm from day to day. Borrowing a little here and there . . . The humiliation is getting too much for my self-respect, speaking from inside my soul. I have tried to keep it to myself and just wait. To look and look at the magnificent sweep of the Everglade, birds included, and keep a smile on my face...."
(Robert Neal Henenway, Zora Neale Hurston: A Literary Biography, 116).

Not everybody has the luxury of giving up. Ethicist Sharon Welch says that the temptation to cynicism and despair when problems are seen as intransigent is a temptation that takes a particular form for the middle class. "The despair of the affluent, the middle class, has a particular tone: it is a despair cushioned by privilege and grounded in privilege. It is easier to give up on long-term social change when one is comfortable in the present—when it is possible to have challenging work, excellent health care and housing, and access to the fine arts. When the good life is present or within reach, it is tempting to despair of its ever being in reach for others and resort to merely enjoying it for oneself and one's family... Becoming so easily discouraged is the privilege of those accustomed to too much power, accustomed to having needs met without negotiation and work, accustomed to having a political and economic system that responds to their needs" (Sharon Welch, A Feminist Ethic of Risk, 15).

An old proverb says, "When you get to your wit's end, remember that God lives there." And it's a good thing, too. Because it's not natural to pursue long and arduous journeys with unflagging bravery and energy. It's not humanly possible to keep on plowing, keep on proclaiming the kingdom of God without looking back. Only as we, moment by moment, follow the wise counsel of the author of Hebrews to a community tempted to turn back can we persist. "Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful" (Heb 10:23). "Keep your hand on the plow and hold on!"

The young pastor sitting at his kitchen table in the middle of a threatening night, praying to God for the gift of perseverance, felt another hand steadying his grasp on the plow.

And it seemed at that moment that I could hear an inner voice saying to me, "Martin Luther, stand up for righteousness. Stand up for justice. Stand up for truth. And lo I will be with you, even until the end of the world." I heard the voice of Jesus saying still to fight on. He promised never to leave me alone (Freeman, Upon This Rock, 173).

Keep your hand on the plow and hold on ... how? By holding fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for the one who has promised is faithful.

The little rural church that begged to close its doors was in for a shock. The denomination said, "Don't quit now. You may be on to something." After recovering from the shock of not being allowed to quit, the congregation said, "Well, maybe we are on to something!" Over the next years they held to their fundamental vision of being a community in ministry to the rural poor. They also learned unanticipated lessons about simplifying and focusing their efforts, letting go of their church building, developing lay leadership, and worshipping in homes. For more than twenty years now that community has lived the way of healing love in a region of intense need (Stephen V. Doughty, "Glimpsing Glimpses," 43).

The story of Zora Neale Hurston is not a "See you at the top!" success story of perseverance bringing a sudden turnaround of her fortunes. In 1959, Hurston suffered a severe stroke and entered a County Welfare Home, where she died three months later on January 28, 1960.

"Make a way out of no way," was the spirit instilled in novelist Alice Walker by her mother. Teaching Hurston's novel Their Eyes Were Watching God in a literature course in the early 1970s at Wellsley College, Walker read in a folklore essay that Hurston was buried in an unmarked grave in the Garden of Heavenly Rest, a segregated cemetery in Fort Pierce, Florida. Outraged at this insult to Hurston, Walker headed south in August of 1973 determined to find Zora's grave. Making her way through waist-high weeds she located the grave and laid on it a marker inscribed with the words: "Zora Neale Hurston/ "A Genius of the South"/ Novelist/ Folklorist/ Anthropologist/ 1901-1960" (Mary Helen Washington, Foreword to Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God, x).

Thanks to the perseverance of Walker and others, Hurston today is "the most widely taught black woman writer in the canon of American literature." Hurston is one who met the triple oppression of black women with a threesome of resisting qualities shared by black women throughout their history of suppression: invisible dignity, quiet grace, and unshouted courage (Katie Cannon, Black Womanist Ethics, 4).

Keep your hand on the plow. Do not grow weary in doing what is right. Hold fast to the confession of your faith without wavering. Why? And, more importantly, how? Because, as the author of Hebrews tells us, "He who has promised is faithful" (10:23).

Sources Consulted

Robert Neal Hemenway, Zora Neale Hurston: A Literary Biography (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1977).

Samuel G. Freeman, Upon This Rock: The Miracles of a Black Church (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1993).

Katie Geneva Cannon, Black Womanist Ethics (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988).

Carlin Romano, "A Daughter of Florida," The Philadelphia Inquirer, February 19, 1995.

Mary Helen Washington, Foreword to Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1990).

About The Author:

Alyce M. McKenzie is the George W. and Nell Ayers Le Van Professor of Preaching and Worship at Perkins School of Theology, Southern Methodist University.

By: The Rev. Mashaun D. Simon

Gospel: Luke 9:51-62

I will never forget the look on my father's face the night of his stroke as he laid on the hospital bed confused and concerned yet alert, trying to keep a strong face for us. I knew he was scared. I was scared too, mostly for him but also for the little boy, his baby boy, who was witnessing the humanity of his father in a different way - something the little boy had never experienced himself before because his father seemed almost invincible and abnormally strong all of the little boy's life.

The night of March 29 is a night that I am not sure I will ever forget. My father, at the age of 82, suffered what has been categorized as a mild stroke. He was lying down at home, watching television, had seemingly dozed off and when he awoke he was on the floor incapable of pulling himself up and unaware of what had happened.

He called for my mother. My sister heard him calling, then called the paramedics. I was home, preparing for bed after ordering the vestments for my upcoming ordination. It was, I thought in the moment, just an ordinary night.

Other than ordering the vestments, I did the same thing I had done each night before going to bed. I watched some television, stopped by my mother's house to pick up some mail that had gone there instead of my apartment by mistake, and ate dinner. My father and I had spoken earlier that night about this and that, and then I went home. I turned off the television, finished eating my pineapple popsicle snack, called my partner to wish him goodnight, and had just fallen asleep when the phone rang.

That night is still fresh in my mind. So when I came across this text from Luke where Jesus is acquiring more and more followers; presumably what many of us would call disciples, I find myself pausing for a moment - pausing because I am trying to make sense of the instructions from the one we call the Messiah.

Jesus covers a lot of ground in the ninth chapter of the Gospel of Luke. It is in this chapter that we get the story of the feeding of the five thousand with the fish and the bread. We also hear the story of Jesus casting an evil spirit out of a young boy. We are told of the transfiguration and Jesus' meeting with Moses and Elijah. And we are told of the moment in which Jesus rebukes James and John for wanting to punish the Samaritans who fail to receive and welcome him.

That's a lot, right? It's complicated - not just in terms of the text, but also of Jesus himself.

This is Jesus, the same Jesus who leads and instructs us through complicated parables. This is the same Jesus who in one section of the text turns over tables in the temple, but then again shows care and comfort for the woman at the well. This is that Jesus who in one instance appears to be condescending and in another instance appears otherworldly, wise, and patient.

I respect that Jesus. And then I get to this text where one of his potential recruits says, "Hold up Jesus! Let me go deal with the affairs of my father before I launch out into the unknown with you" and then Jesus says, "Let that be; let's go!"

He says to the man, "Let the dead bury the dead!"

Well, actually what he says is, "Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God."

On the surface I want to say, "Wait a minute now Jesus, what you got going on is not so important that I have to neglect the memory of my father to cater to your state of urgency." But then I find myself considering that maybe that is the point.

Oftentimes we get so caught up in the midst of what has us preoccupied that we lose sight of the things that are other. What do I mean by that?

So many other times in the text we see nameless individuals petitioning Jesus for a miracle. Men and women begging Jesus to save their children; to bring them back from the brink of death. We read about siblings who have asked Jesus to save their beloved; to hurry because time is of the essence. And we have seen, we have heard of the ways in which Jesus has granted their petitions; how Jesus has breathed life back into their bodies. And yet, in this instance that is not what the man asks for.

The man says, "Let me bury my father" meaning his father is already gone. Maybe he has made peace with that reality. Maybe this man has made peace with the outcome. But at the same time, he has not yet learned to let go. Then here comes Jesus along this man's path. The man is caught between the past and the present and is being shown his tomorrow.

Maybe this man has done what he was supposed to have done for his father and yet he wanted to do one last thing: to provide for his father a proper burial. But Jesus is saying, "let that be, let's go." Maybe, just maybe what Jesus is saying to this man, whether he is young or old, is that what is before him is tomorrow, that yesterday has come and gone and that there is nothing more for him to do back there - that what is for him now is to proclaim, to testify, to share the good news, to be about God's business because he has already done what he could for what he was leaving behind.

I don't know. But maybe, just maybe I should not be so quick to assume that Jesus is being insensitive in this moment. Maybe, just maybe what God wants me to do - wants us to do - is to be at peace with what is when the "what is" comes, to accept that we have done all that we can or should or need to do, and then move forward - that our responsibility is not to be stuck where we were, but to launch out into the next phase of our purpose.

A year ago I preached the eulogy at a dear friend's mother's homegoing. I preached from the well-known "there is a time to live and a time to die" text. His mother had battled cancer for I don't know how many days, weeks, months, years, but she battled. And not too many days after her birthday she breathed her last breath.

I said to him in that moment, "You have done everything you were supposed to do for her. You were her son, her friend, her support, her partner, her caregiver, her… you have done what you could and now that she has moved on, it is time for you to do the same." That was what I believed she wanted for him and what God wanted him to know that she wanted for him. And so as I consider this text and how Jesus says, in Jesus' own way, it is time to move on, I think about my father, who continues to live post-stroke, not dwelling on what was, but living - choosing to live, carrying forth, launching out.

Maybe, just maybe, what Jesus, what God is trying to say to us is that there is still work to be done, there is still life to live, there are still opportunities and experiences and memories to be had - that dwelling back there is dwelling with something that is no longer alive or life-giving and that maybe, just maybe, God wants us to live because that is what the kingdom is all about…right?

About The Author:

The Rev. Mashaun D. Simon is a scholar, writer and teacher. A 2013 graduate of Candler School of Theology, Emory University, Simon's research interests engage the intersections of race, identity, sexuality, faith and belief.