“Called to Courage”: a sermon for the TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST (02 NOVEMBER 2025)

 

     What’s in a name?  How would you describe your identity as a believer in Jesus without using the word “Christian”?  The New Testament book called The Acts of the Apostles uses many “labels” to refer to this weird group of people who burst onto the Mediterranean scene in the fourth decade of the first century – “disciples (of Jesus)”, “Jewish heretics” (Ac. 24.14), “Nazarenes”, “the brothers”; indeed, the moniker “Christian” (i.e. “little Christ”) was first applied to the Jesus followers in the city of Antioch in Syria (cf. Ac. 11.26).  Each of these names tells us something of how the early Christians understood themselves, or at the very least, of how Luke – the author of The Acts – understood the members of this strange new community.

     “The way” of virtue.  Yet another manner of describing the early Christians was as “followers of the Way” (cf. Ac. 9.2, 22.4, 24.14, etc.).  This is interesting – life as a Christian was conceived of as a “way”, a path, a way of life, a journey.  This notion of striving to follow the correct path through life did not originate with Jesus-followers.  In the world of classical Greece, we often find this idea.  Socrates told the story of Hercules arriving at a crossroads, and being invited by two goddesses to follow one of two paths – the way of vice or the way of virtue.  The way of vice promised to be the easy way, characterized by comfort and pleasure.  On the other hand, the way of virtue was said to be difficult and dangerous, yet held the promise of turning Hercules into the hero of many a legend (if you’re thinking of Dwayne Johnson right now, I forgive you).  We also find this idea – similar to that of “the hero’s journey” – in stories like The Hobbit, where Bilbo is challenged to leave behind the conventional comforts of his hobbit-hole and to embark on an adventure which promises to change him forever.  In Greek thought, the “way of virtue” is the way of excellence.  As is the case with any pursuit, this path requires effort and training in order for the “pilgrim” to achieve a state of “virtue” – be it moral, mental or physical.

     Learning virtue.  In case you’re wondering if all of this is actually related to the New Testament, let’s recall that in the Gospels, no one becomes a “believer” in Jesus by subscribing to a Creed, no one adopts a metaphysical system of abstract speculation about the “spiritual life” or “the truth” (as an idea; cf. Jn. 14.6).  Rather, what we find in the Gospels is Jesus summoning people to follow him.  Jesus is going somewhere, and he invites people to join him on the journey.  This is very similar to any first-century Jewish rabbi who would gather a group of students around him (at the time, they were all men).  Of course, the word “disciple” means “student” or “apprentice”.  Disciples apprenticed themselves to a master in the hope of attaining their rabbi’s level of knowledge, piety and manner of “doing life”.  The idea of “being like Jesus” is one we’re probably familiar with, but perhaps we tend to relegate this to an “advanced stage” of the Christian journey, perhaps reserved for “mature” believers.  However, there is no trace of this in the Gospels.  In Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, “becoming like Jesus” is simply what it means to follow Jesus as one’s Master.  The point of the whole thing is to be with Jesus and to learn how to act, think, pray and be like him as much as possible.

     Imitating Jesus.  If the classical Greeks were enamored of the path to virtue, the New Testament is imbued with the challenge (and the real possibility) to imitate/resemble/embody Jesus.  That’s why the New Testament is always speaking of having Jesus’ “spirit” within you (cf. Rm. 8.9-11), of following his footsteps (cf. 1 Peter 2.21), of being, in community with others, the “body of Christ” (cf. Eph. 4.1-13).  So, the question becomes – if we want to link the Greek notion of “virtue” with the New Testament notion of imitating Christ – Was Jesus a virtuous person?  I’m going to argue that Yes, yes he was.  If I’m on track, our attempts to become more like Jesus will hopefully and eventually result in our acquiring virtue.

     Acquiring holiness.  At this point, it might be helpful to discuss the thorny subject of “holiness” or “sanctification”.  I grew up with an idea of “holiness” which was rather off-putting – some of the rules in our house were “no physical exertion on Sundays” (i.e. “honour the Sabbath”), no “worldly” entertainment, etc.  But what if holiness wasn’t about rule-keeping or outdoing the person in the next pew in outward conformity to church-culture?  What if holiness was about becoming the kind of person that could have an impact on the world that would resemble the impact that Jesus had?  There have been many women and men down the centuries who have done just that, and most of them are anonymous.  Many of those who are less anonymous are “officially” designated “saints”, i.e. “holy people”.  Sometimes, holiness looks like a life dedicated to prayer; sometimes, it looks like administrating financial resources to fund the construction of hospitals, schools, orphanages…or perhaps – God help us – administrating a city?  We all have different gifts – are we striving to deploy those gifts in a virtuous way, i.e. with excellence?  I suggest that this is the target to aim at.  So, what virtues – what aspects of holiness – can we expect to develop as we follow Jesus?

     Called to courage.  Someone once said, “Jesus promised his disciples 3 things – that they would be completely fearless, absurdly happy and in constant trouble.”  I don’t know about you, but I find this extremely appealing – and the New Testament backs it up (cf. John, chapters 14-16).  So, the virtue among the four “cardinal virtues” that we’re going to look at today is courage (the others are temperance, justice and wisdom).

     Jesus & courage.  If Jesus is our example of virtue, we have to ask: Did Jesus need courage?  He was Jesus after all.  He’s God, right?  This was actually a matter of great debate in the early centuries of the Church, as theologians struggled to hold together certain Greek ideas about God, on the one hand, and the Gospel accounts of the often all-too-human Jesus, on the other.  Was Jesus a purely divine being simply pretending to be human, or was he simply a human being endowed with divine powers, or perhaps temporarily “possessed” by the divine Spirit?  The “official” statement about Jesus’ identity was issued in the fifth century: Jesus is one person with two natures – one human and one divine – two natures which were distinct yet inseparable.  Got it?  Of course, the crazy thing about Jesus – as the Gospels present him – is that he makes us re-think our idea of “God”.  Paul told the Corinthians that both the power and the wisdom of God were revealed… as Jesus hung on the cross (cf. 1 Cor. 1.18-25).  What kind of God is that!?  So, all this to say that Yes, Jesus needed courage because he was indeed human; indeed, this is a rather disturbing thing – if Jesus was human and yet succeeded in being who he was, that means that it is within the realm of possibility that I, human that I am, can walk his path.

     Jesus at the crossroads.  I believe that it is in the wilderness, following his baptism, that Jesus chooses the way of courage.  The “temptations” that he undergoes are a kind of crossroads – invitations to the easy way of self-preservation through manipulation of God (as if that were possible), the stratagems of “political power” and the “glory” of public acclaim through spectacular, self-promoting proofs of divine favour.  Jesus chooses rather to follow the hard way of self-gift, he commits to living what remains of his life in a state of constant vulnerability.  It took courage, the courage to completely trust his Father.

     Jesus the prophet.  Jesus’ need for courage becomes more and more apparent as we consider the role that he played in the life of the people of God throughout his public activity.  It’s interesting to see how Jesus was perceived by his contemporaries as he began his “ministry”.  When Jesus asks his disciples what the “word on the street” is about him, they reply:

“Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” (Matthew 16.13-14)

Once again, I have the impression that when we imagine Jesus, we probably don’t picture a wild-eyed, hairy, homeless guy who ate insects and wore animal skins.  And yet, this is precisely the associations that people were making at the time – he reminded them of the weird prophetic figures from the Scriptures.  To be sure, Jesus was a multi-faceted person – children were attracted to him (always a good sign), and he could also flip tables and whip people out of the Temple.  Jesus was a strange character – as were all the (authentic) prophets.  Jesus needed courage because he was the last in a long line of messengers, charged with speaking God’s message to God’s people, and in the case of Jesus, delivering God’s final warning (cf. Mk. 12.1-12).

     Prophets & the Word of God.  Prophets were, by definition, troublemakers.  The prophets were radical, avant-gardiste, unconventional, marginal, anti-establishment (both political and religious) people; they shared the pain of God, were always vulnerable to attack, most of them were hated, persecuted & killed for their trouble…yet their words became enshrined in Scripture.  Prophets had the (undesired) mission of making Yahweh, the God of Israel, present to his people.  When God wanted to communicate with his people, he called both prophets and apostles.  PROPHETS were chosen from the people of God to speak the Word of God to Israel (& the nations).  Their message was, essentially: “Repent/return to faithful obedience to the covenant with Yahweh.”  In the New Testament, this role is played largely by “apostles”.  APOSTLES were chosen from the (renewed) people of God to speak the Word of God to the world.  Their message was, essentially: “Repent and offer the obedience of faith to Jesus as Lord.”

     The “Word of God” spoken.  In our time, the term “Word of God” can strike us as somewhat of a cliché, a pious expression found perhaps in the same category as the word “holiness”.  Perhaps we’re accustomed to this term being used in a pedantic, bullying way to justify a heavy-handed approach to the life of faith.  Also, whatever our experience with this language about the “Word of God”, it was probably tied to (a certain interpretation of) the Bible.  It’s a commonplace to refer to the Bible as the Word of God written, and to Jesus as the Word incarnate (cf. Jn. 1.1-3, 14).  Whatever our experience has been with the “Word of God”, let’s imagine a time when God had something to say to his people, and when he called certain individuals to deliver his message.  This was the burden of every prophet – to speak the Word of God to the people of God who, more often than not, did not want to hear it.  Isn’t that strange?  Throughout the biblical narrative, whenever the Word of God is spoken, most people resist it.  Whether it’s the Old Testament prophets, or Jesus himself, or the early Christians preaching the gospel, the reaction to the Word of God is often hostile.  God finds himself committed to a people that doesn’t want to listen to him.  And the prophets are called to share Yahweh’s experience of being rejected by his people, his often-unfaithful covenant partner.

     Jeremiah & Jesus.  Back to how Jesus’ contemporaries perceived him.  It’s fascinating that besides (the recently beheaded) John the Baptist and Elijah, people associated Jesus with the prophet Jeremiah.  The number of similarities between Jeremiah and Jesus is staggering.  Another struggle that the Church has always had is to read the whole Bible, to read the Gospels in light of the Old Testament (a.k.a. the Hebrew Scriptures, Tanakh).  Part of the reason why we find it hard to place Jesus in the same category as the prophets is that we often read the Gospels as if Jesus came to tell us how to get to heaven.  Within such a scheme, Jesus seems to have little to do with figures such as Elijah and Jeremiah.  Weren’t they just cranky old men haranguing people about repentance and idolatry and stuff?  Actually, when we read the Gospels closely, in conversation with, for example, the book of Jeremiah, we realize that Jesus was constantly calling the people of God to (yes!) repentance, inviting them to a radical, renewed faithfulness to Yahweh – through loving their enemies no less – and warning both the city of Jerusalem and the Temple of destruction “within one generation” (as well as the more “popular” things – healing and feeding people and gathering disciples).  If you’ve read the book of Jeremiah recently (!), this all sounds extremely familiar.  Jeremiah, in the 6^th century B.C.E., summoned his fellow Jerusalemites to surrender to the Babylonians and submit to them as God’s instrument of judgment, or else face the utter destruction of the Temple and the city.  Jeremiah dared to proclaim that resistance to Babylon was resistance to God and that submission to this pagan empire was submission to the will of Yahweh.  Almost as crazy as Jesus saying (600 years later),

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you: Love your enemies (i.e. the Romans) and pray for those who persecute you…” (Matthew 5.43-44).

G.K. Chesterton said that the New Testament tells us to love both our neighbours and our enemies, because most of the time, they turn out to be the same people.  It takes courage to be a prophet.  It takes courage to boldly proclaim a message that sounds like treason.

     Wisdom for tense times.  Like Jeremiah and Jesus, we live in a time of great tension, of cultural conflict.  It is a fraught time, when anything we say can ignite controversy.  I suggest that both Jeremiah and Jesus have wisdom to offer as we strive to be faithful to God at this challenging historical and cultural moment.  It probably won’t get easier, but we may become braver.  May “what we are to say be given to us at that time, that it not be us who speak, but the Spirit of our Father speaking through us.” (cf. Mt. 10.19-20).

     Our prophetic calling.  What about us?  If we have heard the call of this strange prophet from Nazareth to follow and imitate him, what are we going to do about it?  Hopefully we are getting a glimpse of just how edgy, risky and exciting the Christian life can be.  If we embrace the call to discipleship, we accept to embark on an often-perilous adventure – an adventure that will not leave us the same people we were when we first answered the call.  In Germany in the late 1930s, Dietrich Bonhoeffer ominously (prophetically) wrote in his lecture notes to the students of his underground seminary: “When Christ calls a person, he calls them to come and die.”  In the world of Classical Greece and Rome, all the famous philosophers and statesmen wanted to die like Socrates.  That is to say, if they had to pay for their ideals with their life, they desired to leave this world in a way that would demonstrate that they could die as they had aspired to live – stoically, courageously, with integrity.  For us, our hero is One who died for love – love of God, love of the people of God, love of the world, love for you and I.  Jesus “loved his own…to the end” (Jn. 13.1).  May we strive for the courage to love as Jesus did, to makes our lives a gift to the people of God and to the world.  We have a prophetic mission as the Church – to embody the way of Jesus, to show the world how to live.

     As our Lord said:

“…have no fear of them, for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light, and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops…Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father…So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matthew 10.26-31)

We are called to courage.  Amen.