In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus has his face set on Jerusalem, where he will suffer and die, and so enter into his glory. Our readings from last Sunday encourage us to set our face in the same way.
The reading from Hebrews says Jesus, for the sake of the joy that lay before him, endured the cross, despising its shame. He suffered physically – and he suffered shame, too. It wasn’t nice.
But he looked ahead to the joy. Our reading says that we too should “keep our eyes fixed on Jesus,” who is both our model of a man seeking divine joy and the God who is our joy.
With our eyes fixed on him, we can “rid ourselves of every burden and sin.” The conjunction is nice. On the one hand, sin is a burden. It’s not that Jesus wants to take away our joy. It’s that he wants us to set aside the things – the Greek for “burden” literally means “bulky things,” a nice image – that get in the way of seeking our joy. We can’t rush forward to the Father with these burdens on our back.
On the other hand, there are burdens other than sin – or rather, we should expand our notion of sin, to include not just rule-breaking, but every burden that stands in our way. The fear of shame and the fear of pain, for example, are bulky burdens. As long as we worry about these things, we cannot keep our eyes focused on the joy before us. We should count them as nothing.
Notice that in this Biblical vision, suffering isn’t a good. Or rather, it’s only good as an opportunity to shrug it off.
The reading from Jeremiah gives us an example. His sufferings are almost comically awful: thrown into a pit with no water to drink, only mud into which he sinks.
The reading needs some context. Jerusalem is under seige, collapsing under the weight of its sins. Jeremiah says the Babylonians are going to take the city captive. It’s not a personal preference, not an advocacy, just the truth. The king’s friends shoot the messenger.
Thus the strange words of the court official who gets Jeremiah freed: “He will die of famine on the spot, for there is no more food in the city.” “There is no more food in the city” is a strange reason to set someone free. But the point is: Jeremiah isn’t the one who’s hurting us. He’s just speaking the truth.
Well, for us, the point is that Jeremiah is doing what Jesus did, following his master. (Yes, the saints of the Old Testament, too, had Jesus for their master.) He worried more about speaking the truth than about suffering the consequences. As Hebrews said, “for the sake of the joy that lay before him he endured the cross, despising its shame.” We are all called to walk the same path – not because we love getting thrown in a muddy pit, but because it just doesn’t matter compared to the joy of knowing God.
The reading from Luke is strange: Jesus says, “Do you think I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you but rather division.” And he says households will be divided, father against son, mother against daughter, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law. Not nice!
To understand these words, I just want to point out some of what happens at the end of Luke. On the Cross, Luke – expanding on the “Why have you forsaken me” of Matthew and Mark – has Jesus saying, “Father, forgive them” and telling the thief, “today you will be with me in paradise.”
Does he come to bring peace or division? Well, he does make peace on the cross – but not a nice easy peace. In fact, that true peace comes about by being willing to suffer division, willing to suffer the cross. Jesus wants not war but – well, he says it in our reading: I have come t oset the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing!” Not war, but not false peace either. He comes to bring the fire of love, which is willing to suffer.
And so in Luke’s account of the Resurrection, Jesus tells the disciples on the road to Emmaus, “It was necessary to suffer all these things and so enter into glory.” He says almost exactly the same thing in Luke’s other resurrection story.
Glory through the cross. Not suffering as the end, but suffering as the path, suffering as something to “despise,” to shrug off, on the way to something grander, “for the sake of the joy that lay before him.”
Christ speaks a word of peace to us. But not false peace, that avoids suffering. Peace born of a love that endures the cross, despising its shame, on its way to something far better.
Where does fear of suffering prevent you from finding divine joy?