The Sword of Truth

Proper 7A-26

Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”  (Matthew 10:34-37).  Family against family.  ‘Your foes will be members of your own household.’ Happy Father’s Day!?

For families already strained by political divisions, culture wars, and religious intolerance, Matthew 10 can feel like a slap in the face. For others who grew up in evangelical settings listening to sermons about obedience and submission, the devil and Hell, division and threat, this was truly a text of terror.

Jesus speaks of persecution, division, crosses, and losing one’s life. These are not comforting words. So, what’s going on?

This week’s gospel continues Jesus’ “Mission Discourse,” which we began last week. Jesus sent the disciples out to proclaim that “the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Jesus was not attempting to frighten his disciples. He was preparing them. Three times he tells the disciples not to be afraid. It may be a simple fact of human nature. You and I are often more comfortable celebrating peace than truth. The unpleasant truth is always difficult, both to speak and to listen to.  We shield ourselves against its wounding accuracy –not just as individuals, but as families, denominations, as a people and as a nation.

As Jesus prepared the disciples for mission, he prepared them for resistance. “A disciple is not above the teacher. If Jesus himself has been misunderstood, maligned, and accused of serving evil (Beelzebul), then those who follow him should not be surprised when they experience similar opposition.” (Micah Krey, Writings on Recovery and Preaching, 4^th Sunday After Pentecost, 2026)

The prophetic witness runs deep in our tradition. The prophet Jeremiah wrote, “If I say, “I will not mention [God] or speak any more in [God’s] name,” then within me there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot” (Jeremiah 20:9). Hebrew prophets spoke truth to power in opposition to the Judean/Israeli government long ago. This was not antisemitic. Rather it was an expression of God’s justice and mercy. The prophet speaks painful words, so that the tender grace of God may take root in our hearts.

This is exhausting, of course. Jeremiah seems to have grown weary of truth telling. “I have become a laughingstock!  Everyone mocks me!” (Jeremiah 20:7).  Every prophet soon comes to realize that nobody loves you for being the enemy of their illusions.  Every prophet quickly discovers the almost unworldly power of homeostasis –the tendency of all systems to stubbornly resist change.  More than truth, “most of us want peace at any price –as long as the peace is ours and somebody else pays the price.” (William Sloan Coffin, Not to Bring Peace, But a Sword, February 16, 1992).

Jesus expressed the power and the pain of truth telling when he said, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword” (v. 34). Jesus who teaches love of enemy, who commanded Peter to put away his sword in the garden, who entered Jerusalem riding not a war horse, but a donkey was not suddenly advocating violence. Rather, Jesus is describing the consequences of God’s kingdom breaking into the world. The truth shall set us free, but first, it will make a lot of people mad.

“Throughout Scripture, the image of the sword is connected not to physical violence but to the power of truthful speech and the Word of God. Proverbs says, “Rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing” (12:18). Hebrews describes the word of God as “living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword” (Hebrews 4:12). In Revelation, the risen Christ repeatedly carries a sharp sword that proceeds not from his hand but from his mouth (1:16; 19:15). The image is not one of military conquest or violent action but of truth spoken with divine authority. (Krey)

Jesus is not commanding violence. He is describing what happens when the kingdom of God comes near. He is not attacking family relationships. He is insisting that no loyalty can supersede loyalty to God.

We stand in need of such truth-telling. This period of 15 days that spans the space between Juneteenth and Independence Day is a unique opportunity for honest reckoning with our past to secure a more vibrant future. Occurring year after year, these days are a season of critical patriotism for our time. Especially as we celebrate and lament the semi-quincentennial of American. Might we develop a new civic liturgy that includes the creative interplay of lament and celebration, reckoning and repair, truth-telling and hope? (Robert P. Jones, “Let’s Tell a New Story: Juneteenth and a Season of Critical Patriotism,” Redeeming Democracy 6/19/26)

Interfaith celebrations of Juneteenth like the beautiful moving service this Friday in Edgewater are one way to do this. Prayerfully learning from the prophets of our age like Frederick Douglass (as we have done today, and for the next two Sundays) is another.

Nine years before the outbreak of the Civil War, July 5^th, 1852, the Ladies’ Anti-Slavery Society of Rochester, New York, invited Frederick Douglass to speak at Corinthian Hall, the city’s most prestigious public venue. It was the 76th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. Douglass stepped onto the high speaker’s platform without an introduction. In his very person he represented an impossibility. He is black. He is an escaped slave. He taught himself to read and write. He is, arguably, the most famous speaker of his age. Douglass was living proof of what was, in fact, possible and, at also, a living testament to the heart wrenching tragedy and wasted potential wrought by racism.

Cradling his 30-page text, Douglass drew on the tradition of the Hebrew prophets and delivered a long list of uniquely American blessings and woes. But he did not merely unleash anger at the hypocrisy of white celebrations of independence in a nation where chattel slavery remained legal. Douglass crafted a piece of art, what historian David Blight describes as a rhetorical “symphony in three movements.”

Douglass began by praising the genius of the founding fathers and referred to the Fourth of July as an American Passover. It is a holiday that celebrates the narrative we most like to tell ourselves about our origins and identity. It is here that we recite the story of American freedom, equality, and justice for all.

In middle portion of the speech, possessive pronouns shift from “our” to “your.” Douglass forcefully highlighted the distance between himself and his white audience. He addresses the other founding story of America, less celebrated, but just as persistent and deep: the America which an exclusive possession of white Christian men. It is this version of America which has again risen to prominence today. Does it surprise us? We cannot pretend it doesn’t exist. We must tell the truth if we are ever finally to root it out and defeat it. Douglass exposed the hypocrisy of slavery in a republic founded on the Declaration of Independence declaring that slavery “brands your republicanism as a sham, your humanity as a base pretense, and your Christianity a lie.”

In the final movement of the speech, Douglass again held out hope that the United States might yet live to be a nation worthy of its professed values. The struggle continues. The mission is ongoing. Jesus’ warnings about conflict and rejection are surrounded by assurances of God’s care. We, with the disciples, are reminded that nothing hidden will remain hidden forever, that truth ultimately comes to light, and that even the smallest sparrow does not fall apart from God’s knowledge. Indeed, all the hairs on your head have been counted. “When through fire-y trials your pathway shall lie, my grace, all sufficient, shall be your supply.  The flames shall not hurt you; I only design your dross to consume and your gold to refine.” (ELW # 796, “How Firm a Foundation”)