Sermons

“Seeking the Gospel Truth”

Luke 7:1-10; Galatians 1:1-12 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – May 29, 2016

Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words, that we might open our hearts to receive your Word from wherever its melody may ring. We pray in Jesus’ name, Amen.

At first glance, our two scriptures readings may not seem to have much in common with each other. A story about Jesus healing the servant of a Roman centurion and the beginning of a letter from Paul to one of the churches he founded – what could they have to do with each other? Even the tone is different. The gospel story is full of good will and positive outcomes. Paul’s letter opens with a rather abrupt admonishment to the Christians in Galatia. And yet, they both point to a broader truth that is, in fact, one of the fundamental principles of Christianity as well as an important reminder for those of us trying to follow Jesus in these times.

Let’s begin by clarifying the context, in case anyone is fuzzy on the details. “Centurion” is not a word we tend to use very often in day-to-day conversation. Who is this guy, and what is his relation to Jesus? What we must remember here is that Palestine was under Roman occupation. The Roman Empire had conquered the lands where Jesus lived, and they ruled, generally, with an iron fist. A centurion was an officer of the Roman army, called that because he had 100 men under his command – 100 men whose job it was to keep the Jewish people under control. It is safe to say that a Roman centurion could be expected to be the natural enemy of a poor, traveling rabbi.

On the other hand, this particular centurion, according to the local Jewish elders, seems to have taken a different approach to keeping order. We are given the impression that he was sympathetic to the locals there in Capernaum and even built their synagogue for them. So as enemies go, he wasn’t such a bad guy. And yet, he was still clearly not a Jew; he was a Roman centurion and nothing could change that, so no matter how interested or generous he might be, he was always going to be on the other side of a major divide.

The context of the passage we read from Galatians is even less clear. But if we were to read the rest of the book, we would discover what the “different gospel” that Paul is concerned about really was. Paul had come to the residents of Ancyra and Pessinus and Tavium proclaiming a gospel that offered grace to all people – Gentiles included, with no fine print. This grace is a free gift, offered through the love of Christ Jesus. You didn’t have to be a particular kind of person to receive it, and you certainly didn’t have to become a different kind of person before you could access it. God’s love has been broken wide open and offered to everyone.

So imagine how horrified Paul was to hear that someone had come in after he left and tried to convince the Galatians that in order to become Christians, they would have to become Jews first. Paul’s whole ministry was about taking the gospel of Christ to the Gentiles (that is, the non-Jews). The idea that they had to convert to Judaism first was in direct opposition to what he had been preaching everywhere he went. So he was pretty mad that someone was trying to lead them astray like this.

What is strangest to me about this situation is that some of the Galatians, it seems, were finding this “perverted” gospel convincing. You would think they would prefer Paul’s approach – the one that didn’t require circumcision – but apparently, this idea of conversion before conversion was gaining some traction. Why would that be?

And here is where we get to the connection between these two stories. Generous and sympathetic as he might be, that Roman centurion was never going to gain access to the circle of faith he was so supportive of. Easy as Paul had told them it was to become Christians, the Galatians wanted it to be harder. There is something within our human hearts that craves a tribe. We want to be part of a group, and it’s easier to know we’re part of the group if we can see that others are not part of the group. But both of these stories, in their own way, make clear that that isn’t how following Jesus works.

One of the coolest things about this Roman centurion is that he doesn’t try to be anyone other than who he is. He doesn’t pretend; he doesn’t try to sneak his servant in amongst the crowd. He approaches Jesus in the way he’s used to operating, with flattery and authority. How else would a centurion ask for a favor? The confidence and blatant flattery of his messages aren’t what is surprising in this situation. What’s amazing is that he would direct such words toward Jesus, a more-or-less homeless, un-vetted itinerant preacher. I think this suggests two things: First of all, he does place high value on the slave who is near death. Why else would he go to such lengths? And secondly, he’s come to terms with being on the outside of this faith community he has such affection for, but something about what he’s heard about Jesus has given him hope.

The centurion has to know Jesus is a Jewish rabbi. Indeed, in all of his messages, he is careful to keep a respectful distance. He knows he isn’t technically allowed access to the blessings of the “chosen people.” But in this one desperate situation, he’s got to ask, just in case. There have been reports that this particular rabbi takes a different approach to God’s blessings than some.

And so instead of commanding a healing – which, in theory, he would have had the authority to do – the centurion sends a message declaring his recognition that Jesus has an authority like his, though over a vastly different realm. And what is the result? As an afterthought, Luke tells us that the servant is soon found “in good health.” But more important to the point of the story is Jesus’ declaration that “not even in Israel have I found such faith.” Without living under occupation, it is perhaps difficult for us to grasp how shocking those words are. For the Messiah to declare that a Roman centurion is a model of faith simply doesn’t compute. He isn’t part of the tribe, even if he has been generous to it. His faith doesn’t even really exist; how can it be an example for others? And yet, that’s what he said.

The story of Jesus and the centurion is just one of many examples of how Jesus began breaking down the walls that had restricted access to God’s love. There are so many other instances, such that by the time Paul came around, it was obvious to him that this truth of universal access is part of the very nature of the gospel. Anything that argues otherwise, he says, isn’t the gospel. So why on earth would the Galatians listen to someone who was telling them they had to be circumcised before they could become Christians?

Except that we do that, don’t we? “I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member,” said Groucho Marx. If we’re going to bother belonging to something, we want it to be exclusive. We want to know that someone else isn’t invited. We want it to be hard to get in. When Paul came along and offered them the abundant life he’d found in Christ, the Galatians thought that sounded good. But when those other guys arrived and told them they weren’t really in until they’d made bigger sacrifices, it somehow made the whole thing even more attractive. This made sound a little nuts, but if you think about, you can start to recognize the impulse. There is something within our human hearts that craves a tribe. And it is exactly that exclusivist impulse that our baptism into Christ seeks to wash away. The good news of the gospel is about breaking down barriers and knocking down walls. It is about removing what divides us from others. It is about sharing the love of God that we’ve found through Jesus with everyone – centurion, villager, socialist, conservative, refugee, politician, and fellow church members.

We live in very divided times. Our tribes may not be as clearly delineated as in earlier times, but they are nonetheless quite influential. Our tribal sympathies impact who we listen to, how we form our opinions, where we get our news, whom we trust, whom we’re willing to help, whose perspective we will dismiss, and whom we consider nothing but a liar. Our tribal sympathies shape even our understanding of the gospel. Which is ironic, since the gospel, as Paul is trying to convince us, is telling us that our tribes are a human construction, and not the gift from God we act like they are. If we are going to be Christians, in this day and age, we are going to have to put extra effort into making sure we 6 are following Jesus first. We are going to have to take care that we are listening to many perspectives, and not just those that line up with ours. We are going to have to make sure that, like Jesus, we are seeing the human needs within other people first, before we’re judging their status or their job or any of the other things that might distance them from us. It is not “people-pleasing” to insist that everyone is welcome. As Paul says, that isn’t about human approval; it’s about proclaiming the gospel.

The good news we need to hear may emerge from unlikely corners. What is the equivalent of a Roman centurion in your life? Who would be your natural enemy, if it weren’t for Jesus? Can you imagine that they might have some special message for you? What about the other story? Have you been putting requirements on yourself or others to truly belong? Have you been making it harder than it has to be to belong to God’s family? What would it take for you to let that go? It can be scary when walls are crashing down around us. Many walls feel like they were there for our protection. They help us feel safe. But the walls that Jesus breaks down are the ones that keep the gospel from being fully realized. They are the ones that keep us from seeing the truth. They are the ones that separate us from the rest of God’s family. It’s time to take them down. Alleluia and Amen.