Today is Refugee Sunday; and in the amazing way that the Scriptures have of coming up with something relevant to anything that is going on in our society, one of the major themes that emerge from today's readings is what to do in the face of opposition. Do we run away and hide? Do we fight back? Do we give in – seek compromise and peace? Or is there some other way we can work through the problem of opposition.
And, of course, we are posing these questions to ourselves this morning as Christians: what is the Christian way of responding to opposition? Do our readings this morning offer us any guide on this matter? Well, I think they do, but let's stay with refugees for a moment.
New Zealand recently hosted a visit from perhaps the world' best known refugee, although I don't think I saw or heard any reference to his status as a refugee in any reports on his visit. I'm referring, of course, to the Dalai Lama, who fled Tibet after the Chinese take-over of the country. That was his response to opposition – he left the country; and, it could be said, he has had a fairly comfortable life ever since, being treated as a world statesman and wined and dined in the capitals of the world.
Less famous is Aung San Suu Kyi, who won a general election in Burma some years ago and has been under house arrest ever since. She has been offered a few deals over the years that would have secured her release, but she has turned them all down. She remains a prisoner, yet the leader of her followers and a symbol of hope for the future of her country. Like Nelson Mandela before her, she embodies a spirit of freedom even while kept in virtual solitary confinement.
So there are two responses to violent opposition – to take refuge elsewhere, and to attempt to orchestrate opposition from abroad; or to remain in prison and share in the suffering of your people.
Which gets us to Elijah. This morning we come in at the tail end of the marvellous story I always think of as the Battle of the Bonfires. You may remember how Elijah challenged the Prophets of Baal to see whether Baal or Yahweh was the most powerful God. Each side was to build a huge bonfire, and then pray to their God to set the thing on fire. Try as they might, the prophets could not get a spark from heaven to light their fire. Elijah, ever the great showman, poured water all over his fire, but, when he prayed, it burst into flames and he won a unanimous points victory, as we say.
But his victory celebrations turned nasty, as he slaughtered over four hundred of the losing side. Not a good career move – Queen Jezebel, the power in front of the throne of King Ahab, was a worshipper of Baal herself and took offence at Elijah's actions. So he is now facing royal (governmental) opposition. How does he respond? He goes into hiding – and he sinks into self-pity. It is in that frame of mind that he is again confronted by God, the God whom Elijah believes he has served so spectacularly well – with little to show for it.
What's to be done? Remain in hiding for a while and hope the Queen loses interest in him? Flee to another country, and try to rustle up opposition from outside the borders? Surrender, and if necessary become martyr for the cause?
He gets a decidedly mixed message from God. Far from encouraging Elijah to keep a low profile for a while, God sends him back into the fray; and how! God commands Elijah to anoint a new king to replace Ahab – not exactly the most conciliatory thing to do in the circumstances. And as if that were not bad enough, God also commands Elijah to anoint a successor for himself – Elisha. Not a lot of sentiment here, is there? The message to Elijah is not one of comfort and assurance: there's no suggestion of a pat on the back for services rendered and an offer of a contented retirement. Elijah is to continue to act in opposition to the King, and, because that is a dangerous road to travel, it's time to find a successor to carry on the work when he is 'gone'.
The message here, then, is that when a leader of God's people faces opposition, the leader must simply keep on going; and if it ends in death, well, no worry, there will be someone else ready to pick up the baton. That's tough stuff, and it has never been a very popular message inside the Church, let alone outside it. Self-preservation has always had wider appeal.
It certainly had for James and John. Our gospel reading starts with an interesting little insight into the way in which Jesus conducted his itinerant ministry. It seems that he sent some of his aides on ahead, to make any necessary arrangements, rather as famous visitors do today sometimes. Book halls, get the word out, arrange catering, that sort of thing.
James and John are on this sort of work on this occasion, and they meet opposition in a Samaritan village. The villagers want nothing to do with them ostensibly because they know that Jesus and his team are on the way to Jerusalem, and the Samaritans refuse transit rights to such travellers. James and John are not well pleased by the villagers' response. They report to Jesus; and possibly with Elijah's bonfire success in mind, they offer to call fire down from heaven to destroy the villagers. Today we might call it the scorched earth policy: destroy the village in order to save it.
Jesus' response is important – particularly in today's world. He didn't smile sweetly and thank them for the suggestion – he rebuked them. It's the same word used in the Scriptures for the rebuking of demonic spirits. Jesus treats the idea of nuking his enemies as demonic. That is not his way. He will not go where he is not welcome. St Luke finishes this account with a simple statement: "they went to another village".
But today's gospel teaching doesn't finish there. It goes on to tell us about three people who came to Jesus and expressed an interest in joining his band of followers. Each of them was rebuffed, and in terms that strike us as being rather harsh. To the first one Jesus warns about the lack of home and security that being a disciple of his brings. The second wanted to bury his father before signing up. In other words, he wanted to fulfil his cultural obligations before committing himself to follow Jesus. The third wanted time merely to say goodbye to his family.
To be frank, this strikes us as a bit harsh, doesn't it? Is it so terrible to want to attend to family matters, even to say goodbye to them? Isn't Jesus going a bit over the top here? Does he really want people to give up everything – even our families – for him? Isn't that too extreme, too fanatical? Don't we usually expect such whole of life, single-minded dedication to be reserved for a career, for farming, or building up a business, or becoming a top sportsperson? We admire the commitment of those people – and we understand when they eventually retire and explain that they are looking forward to spending more time with their families. But putting our faith before all other considerations?
As often happens, it's St Paul that offers they key to this puzzle this morning. He reminds us that in Christ we have been set free. We are free from all that binds us, whether that is the oppression of political leaders, the opposition of those who do not welcome us or our faith, family obligations or anything else that can stop us being true to our calling. When we face opposition we are to stand firm in the faith, seeking the guidance of the Spirit.
As fellow human beings we understand Elijah's feelings; we understand why James and John found retaliation so appealing. We understand the plight and flight of refugees, including the Dalai Lama, even though we admire those who stay and suffer with their people. In each case our human nature may well command similar thoughts and actions.
But it is precisely from the dictates of our human nature that we have been set free in Christ. We are free to choose another path. We are free to follow another voice. Do we go into hiding, or do we re-enter the fray? Do we go where we want to go, or only where we are welcome? Do we meet our commitments regardless of the cost to ourselves, or do we compromise to keep the peace? In each case, says St Paul, ask the Spirit. Go where the Spirit leads, do what the Spirit says. That is the freedom we have in Christ.
Very often there will be no conflict. In most cases the loving thing to do will be to meet the needs and wishes of family members. In most cases, following Jesus does not result in homelessness, or other deprivation. But if we find ourselves in that conflict, we need to stop and think and pray. The question then is not, what is the easiest thing to do? How can I keep the peace? But, what does the Spirit require of me?
That is not always an easy question to answer, but it is always the right question to ask. Becoming a Christian is about learning to live in this new-found freedom, and that can be scary.
Ask any refugee.
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