Galatians 6.1-16; Luke 10.1-11, 16-20
I wonder what the phrase ‘the kingdom of God’ means to you. Do you think of it in present or future tense? Or even past? Where in space do you imagine it - is it an ethereal ‘up there’, or is it a future state of the earth? Is it physical or spiritual or both? And what is your involvement in the kingdom, as you imagine it? Are you an active participant? An observer? A wondering seeker? I imagine that if we took a survey of everyone who is part of this church, we would have an interesting variety of answers.
I know someone at a church in England, an older gentleman, who has been a faithful church attender for many decades. He had a deep faith which meant a lot to him. But one day I preached about heaven, and he told me afterwards that he had no desire at all to go there. As a very active person, always busy with something, heaven sounded like the most terribly boring place! His opinion seems justified when you think of some of the imagery we have about heaven - there is a line in the christmas carol ‘Once in Royal David’s city’ that goes ‘where like stars his children crowned, all in white shall wait around’. Well, after enduring nearly 4 hours of waiting at the DMV this week, I am in agreement that an eternity of heavenly waiting sounds unbearable!
But this is quite far, I think, from what heaven will actually be like, and it is certainly nothing like what Jesus meant by the kingdom of God.
So what is Jesus talking about when he says that the kingdom of God has come near?
We are given a clue in his instructions to the disciples to accept hospitality. Jesus is sending out these disciples, these shiny new eager Jesus-followers, to tell strangers about God-on-earth. And Jesus tells them, don’t move around from house to house, but when you get to a town or village, stop somewhere and stay there. Accept the hospitality which is offered. Meet people where they are at. This is a type of generosity which Jesus models very clearly himself. We don’t have any stories of Jesus turning up his nose at something and going somewhere a little nicer for dinner. Instead Jesus affirms each person who hosts him by accepting their hospitality, sitting and eating and talking with them as equals, as people with worth. Hospitality binds people together, and can open our eyes to the depths of our shared humanity, our shared sparks of the divine. It’s something I found to be true over my two years working as a caregiver, accepting some truly terrible cups of tea but finding so many unexpected and beautiful glimpses of God given to me in generosity from those I was there to look after. For the kingdom of God draws near when we cherish the other, when we both give and receive hospitality, when we draw together as friends and equals, even if we were strangers two minutes before.
The kingdom of God has come near, says Jesus.
But I’m sure that for some of you, there was another part of our gospel reading which caught your attention this morning. There are times, it must be admitted, as we journey through the three year cycle of set texts on Sundays, that Jesus says some things that just seem a bit weird. Just a little bit odd, even for him. And I think we have one of those in today’s gospel reading, when Jesus says ‘I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions… and nothing will hurt you’.
Now, fear not, I haven’t brought any snakes with me this morning! But we know the bible is a difficult text with layers of translation, historical and cultural contexts, that it is possible to read it and understand it in many different ways, and draw many different meanings or instructions from it. So it shouldn’t surprise us that these words are taken literally by some, and there are churches where they handle poisonous snakes in order to demonstrate the protection that Jesus promised. But I suspect Jesus said this with a deeper meaning in mind, and it isn’t really directed at literal protection from snakes and scorpions (as an aside, this doesn’t make theological sense anyway, as we know that being people of faith does not protect us from harm or guarantee a healthy or wealthy life).
Instead, I want to talk about a piece of artwork. There is a beautiful drawing by a Cistercion nun, Sister Grace Remington, depicting Mary consoling Eve. Eve, eyes downcast, holding the forbidden fruit in one hand, is being tenderly reassured by Mary, pregnant with Jesus. Mary is drawing Eve’s hand towards her belly, inviting her to feel the life of God within her, the promise of hope and wholeness in the incarnation. There is a serpent wrapped around Eve’s legs, a bodily form of humanity’s fallenness, but Mary is standing on its head, vanquishing it, inviting Eve into a space of forgiveness and love. The piece as a whole is powerfully symbolic of Jesus being the one who is victorious. In one snapshot, we see the story of Genesis, the temptation and fall, humanity’s choice to follow and rely on itself; and then we see so simply God’s profound answer to our lostness - God incarnate in Jesus, brought into the world through Mary, who chose to say yes, to follow and rely on God. In this image, Mary shows us what it is to tread on snakes.
The overarching story of the Bible, summarised in this art, and which we continue to this day in our own lives, is the story of God triumphant, of the serpent being conquered. Eve and Mary have told this story, and now Jesus asks us to also play our part in this unfolding narrative of hospitality and grace, where love triumphs over evil. Through Jesus, the kingdom of God always has been and always will be the one that is greater. The serpent can never win overall.
For the kingdom of God is near, even amongst our divisive and conflicting political climate. The kingdom of God is near, even in the face of climate catastrophe. Even while war rages across the world. Even while people in our own neighbourhoods go hungry, or face violence. Even while we experience grief or doubt. The kingdom of God is near at all times, in all places, in every situation, because Christ dwells within us, because we each have the opportunity to be the tangible hands, feet and voices of Jesus, as he gives us authority to speak and act against all that is not love. To stand on the serpent’s head.
So the kingdom of God is near, because you are near. We aren’t all just waiting around as the christmas carol says, like terribly bored cherubs, but we are active, we have a voice, because what we do and say and think matters. Because our interactions with others have power. The kingdom of God is near, says Jesus, and we are called to bring it to birth wherever we go.
It’s a bit like Narnia, this kingdom. Sometimes we catch sight of it, sometimes it is nearer and more real to our experience. Perhaps we see a glimpse at the altar rail, at that thin space where heaven and earth touch in the Eucharist. Or maybe you see the kingdom of God in outreach work, in giving, in bible classes. Perhaps you see the kingdom in those who inspire you spiritually, or maybe you can look at your own life and see those moments where God is especially present. Somehow the kingdom of God is always breaking through the broken messiness of our world and society and our own hearts. This is one of the great wonders of our faith, that God is persistent and bold and unexpected, and keeps showing up, even when we least expect it.
So this morning I invite you to take to heart Paul’s words in his letter to the Galatians. Do not grow weary of doing what is right, but work for the good of all. Be persistent in both the giving and receiving of hospitality, in being the hands and feet and voice of Jesus. Be bold in weaving your own thread into the tapestry telling the story of God at work in the world, for in persisting, you are standing on snakes and scorpions.
Amen.
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