Sam Bush, “Do Not Be Afraid”
We live in a land of heightened security. A world of hi-tech surveillance systems, smart doorbells, traffic cameras and face recognition software. It feels like 70% of my day is spent retrieving six-digit codes. And yet, these days it feels like we are more suspicious, fearful and, well, insecure than ever before. Personal safety fears are at a three-decade high. Our utmost caution and heightened security are not enough to assuage our fears. It brings to mind Billy Joel’s song “Vienna,” where he asks, “If you’re so smart, tell me why are you so afraid?”
For starters, fear is our most primal emotion. It’s built into our DNA. Our ancient ancestors did not have the luxury of having only fear itself to be afraid of, but also wolves. Fear was what kept you alive. And we’re no different today. It’s pool season and it feels like the only thing keeping my one-and-a-half year old alive is my fear which prompts me to grab him as he launches himself into the deep end.
But there is a difference between instinctive fear and anxiety. Primal fear is acute; it triggers a response, causing me to grab my one-year old; and it’s temporary. Anxiety, on the other hand, is amorphous; it paralyzes you; it lingers; and it spreads like kudzu. Primal fear keeps you alive. Anxiety gives you ulcers and high blood pressure and will ultimately kill you.
It often feels like, by anticipating danger, we can keep it at bay, but it’s not long until our fears become more real than the threats themselves. In an Atlantic article this week, when asked what would happen if two 10-year-olds played in a local park without adults around, half the people thought they would likely get abducted. Jonathan Haidt said, “These intuitions don’t even begin to resemble reality.” According to a recent study, kidnapping in the United States is so rare that a child would have to be outside unsupervised for, on average, 750,000 years before being snatched by a stranger.” That’s why my kids are outside loitering on the corner (smoking!), waiting for me to get out of here. But, you see, the power of fear is in its ability to show just how powerless you actually are: over your family, your job, your legacy, your health, your life. It seems all we can do is try to hold onto as much power as we can.
So when Jesus says in our gospel reading, “Do not be afraid,” it sounds at least naive or, even worse, irresponsible. “Do not be afraid? In this economy? Have you checked the news, Jesus? More importantly, do you realize my marriage and family dynamics run on fear - on what you can and cannot say; trying to not rock the boat? Jesus, do you realize how high the stakes are with my job right now?
Jesus is fully aware that fear is our most basic instinct. Fear is the first human emotion expressed in the Bible. Three chapters in, after Adam and Eve eat the fruit, they hide from God. When God comes looking for them, Adam says, “I heard you in the garden. I was afraid and hid from you.” The moment we are separated from God we start to fear. And what do we fear most? God himself!
Time and again, people are terrified of God in the Bible. When God fills the temple in Isaiah, Elijah says, ““Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, yet my eyes have seen the Lord of hosts!” The first time Peter encounters Jesus he says, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” Why are they so afraid? Because they have an understanding of God’s holiness, that a perfect judge peering into the deep secrets of your heart is not a comforting thought. When the psychologist Jordan Peterson was recently asked about the existence of God he replied, “I’m terrified that there might be.” Which sounds like a man who knows himself, but sadly a man who does not yet fully know God.
In our gospel reading, Jesus gives us a picture of who God is. He tells a story. A master is coming home. And what exactly is he coming home from? As the storyteller, Jesus has artistic license. He could have had the master coming home from a long day at work or an arduous journey. Instead Jesus has him coming home from… a wedding banquet. That changes the tone, no? This master has probably had a few drinks. His shirt is untucked. It’s the middle of the night. He was likely out on the dance floor minutes beforehand chanting “One more song!”
Jesus tells his audience to be like the servants who wait for their master’s return to let him in as soon as he gets back. Why? For roll call and inspection? Should they stay alert so they can carry him upstairs and put him to bed? Should they stay alert to ward off intruders? No. Jesus says, “So that the master will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them.” It turns out this master is not a bully or a browbeater, but a gracious host.
Theologian Robert Capon says it best: “What we are watching for is a party. And that party is not just down the street making up its mind when to come to us. It is already hiding in our basement, banging on our steam pipes, and laughing its way up our cellar stairs. God is not our mother-in-law, coming to see whether her wedding-present china has been chipped. He is a funny Old Uncle with a salami under one arm and a bottle of wine under the other. We do indeed need to watch for him; but only because it would be such a pity to miss all the fun.”
This is Jesus’ self-portrait. A God we feared was menacing, but is, in truth, merciful. In light of that, what is there to be afraid of? As the Apostle Paul says, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” Faith in this God frees you to live boldly. This is why Jesus says, “Sell your possessions, and give alms” because where a spirit of fear forces you inward, a spirit of love frees you to look outward. As Francis Spufford once said, “God does not want your careful virtue. He wants your reckless generosity.” After all, what have you got to lose? Why play it safe?
I know the answer, of course. One parishioner this week told me, “I know Jesus said not to worry, but the fact of the matter is that it is hard coded in me.” Fear is in your DNA. It’s in your blood. Which means there has to be something stronger than your blood to overcome it. And there is, of course. The blood of Christ. Our ultimate hope is not that we would cast off our fear, but that Jesus would enter into it. Ten chapters from now, Jesus is found in a garden. Unlike Adam, he was not hiding, but praying… because he was afraid. He was so overcome with anguish that he perspired blood. But rather than stay secure on his heavenly throne he risked it all for love’s sake. After all, there is nothing safe about love.
While our fear is trying to hold onto some semblance of control, Jesus says, “Go ahead and let go.” While it feels like the one thing keeping you alive, Jesus says, “Why not lay your life down now so that I can give you a new one?” After all, our greatest fears have already been realized. Our fear of rejection, of being found out and punished, our fear of death. The Cross is where our fear interfaces with God’s love. And perfect love (and by perfect love I mean Jesus) casts out all fear. In an insecure world, we can fully trust that, in Christ, our salvation is secure.
In his latest book The Big Relief, our own Dave Zahl writes, “What would you do, what risk would you take, what would you say, if you weren’t afraid? If you weren’t afraid of letting anyone down, or missing out on some future opportunity, or of some catastrophe befalling you if you let go of your grip on things?” Honestly, you’d probably look like my one year old, free to take all the risks in the world, knowing that he was completely taken care of. What would you do? Would you take that unknown job or leave that dead end job? Would you be honest with your spouse? Would you forgive your father? Would you say you’re sorry? Whatever you’d do, perhaps what is more comforting is knowing how Jesus answers the question. What would he do? He would die so that you might live.
Amen.
