Do you want to laugh?  Do you want to cry?  Maybe both?  If you have come to this Presbyterian church from another expression of Christian faith, you probably have figured out by now that Presbyterians are not, on the whole, an especially emotive bunch.  There are churches where people wave their hands in the air, jump up and down, clapping, dancing in the aisles: this is the joy they feel.  Joy is good.  The impression some have of the Frozen Chosen—a name applied not only to Presbyterians—is that, because we are not emotive, we must not be very joyful.  Beloved, there is also the quiet, full, bright joy of beholding a beautiful sunrise; the quiet, full, bright joy of seeing a table set, simply, cleanly, elegantly, perfectly.  There is the joy of prayer—the deep fullness, the hope, the love, the faith: the joy of prayer in our joyous times, the joy of prayer in our sad times.  There is the joy of God’s Word, with us, in us, present, living, taking action in ways we sometimes perceive, often in ways we barely perceive, or don’t.  We do not walk by sight.  We walk by faith. John offered one way, Jesus another.  Both were for reconciliation with God.  John’s was the way of preparation, Christ’s the way of celebration.  All are invited to the feast, as parables of Jesus remind us (Mt 22:1-14, Lk 14:15-24).  We may remember that those invited find ways to excuse themselves.  Why decline an invitation to a feast, to God’s feast?  God knows I’m always ready to eat, and God’s feast has got to be some feast!  Why decline?  They aren’t interested.  It doesn’t matter to them.  They have better things to do.  They don’t want it. John came like a prophet of old, the voice in the wilderness, proclaiming judgment and grace, fire and salvation: a hard man, a distant man, a holy man.  For some, not many, but some, that way is attractive: it calls to them, seems right to them, like God’s true way, hard, distant, holy.  John had disciples.  Peter’s brother Andrew was one.  There were other groups that practiced a hard way: the Pharisees with their total devotion to the Law as interpreted and expounded—expanded—over the centuries; the Essenes, out in the desert, like some monastic community, pursuing purity far from the ways of men.  People knew about the way of self-denial, sacrifice, obedience: they knew it wasn’t for them. Jesus gathered disciples.  He sought people, enjoyed being with people.  Gatherings often involved food and drink, as to this day.  Jesus seemed to enjoy this eating and drinking in the company of others.  He didn’t seem to follow the way of John or the Pharisees.  If theirs was a hard, distant, holy way, what did Jesus offer?  A near way, a close way, a way of invitation.  Jesus often sought time to be alone, or with his inner group of disciples.  Often, Jesus is in crowds, bustle, activity, not withdrawn from the world but plunged into the world of everyone’s everyday cares and concerns.  His is a close way, a near way, a way of invitation. He tells us it is a hard way.  He tells us his is a holy way, though others didn’t perceive it.  The holiness of the way of Jesus is the holiness of healing, blessing, restoring.  It doesn’t seem as if that would be a hard way, and yet it proves to be, even harder than the hard way of John.  As Jesus continues to teach, more of those who had drawn near begin to fall away (Jn 6).  He tells us a parable about this, too: the parable of the sower (Mt 13). Jesus marvels that, though he and John have quite different approaches, the response seems to be the same.  Perhaps this is because, despite the differences, the central message is the same.  John proclaims, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near” (Mt 3:2).  The message Jesus proclaims is “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near” (Mt 4:17).  We can understand what’s happening here.  I haven’t seen her in several weeks, but you may remember the woman who seemed for a time to sit daily at the corner of 35 and 17^th, with her billboard and her bullhorn.  What was her message?  Repent.  We either said “yeah, yeah,” as we went about our business, or we just shook our heads, or we smirked and thought she was a fool.  Though not everyone did. As I read the Scripture for today, I wondered how to make sense of it.  I wondered what teachers of the early church had to say.  One observed that the people of that generation “accepted neither the gloominess of John the Baptist nor the freedom of Christ.  They did not receive help one way or another.”[1]  Some couldn’t hear because of the way John presented the message—I guess we might say John got in the way of the message.  Some couldn’t hear because of the way Jesus presented it—here again, we might say that Jesus got in the way of the message.  Staggering!  Yet is it?  A Democrat might be telling the truth, but because that person is a Democrat, what he or she says won’t be accepted.  A Republican just might be telling the truth, but because that person is a Republican, what he or she says won’t be accepted.  A CEO might be telling the truth, but who can believe it, coming from that mouth?  A person who looks like a bum might be telling the truth, but who can hear it coming from that mouth? There are those who can’t hear because they don’t want to.  Their hearts are hardened, and that is fine with them: they are the smart ones, the strong ones, the realistic ones.  The hardened heart is our default state, until God makes the way and gives us ears to hear.  God is the one who makes possibility where there seemed only impossibility. Jesus again says something strange: “the kingdom of heaven has been subjected to violence, and violent people have been raiding it” (11:12).  Can we subject the kingdom to violence?  Violent people can, according to Jesus.  We live in violent times: violence has come upon us.  How shall we respond?  Shall we be violent people, too?  Be pushed and push back.  Be punched, return the punch.  You’ve got to, right?  It doesn’t stop there, though . . . unless you push over a cliff, unless your punch maims or kills; it stops then.  Fight or flight—the options end there.  Which did Jesus choose, if those are truly our only options? The violent subject the kingdom to violence.  With John, Jesus had said repent, for the kingdom has come near.  The violent did as the violent do: they fight.  They fight the kingdom, subject it to their violence, subject John and Jesus to their violence, subject the church to their violence, their all-encompassing violence.  That’s still happening!  It’s not just, or even mainly, physical violence.  Another early teacher said, “Those who resist the kingdom of heaven tear apart heaven itself in attempting to justify themselves.”[2]  Tearing the kingdom apart is a symptom of a deeper act of violence: violence against oneself.  The violence against the kingdom is an act of self-justification: I am right, I am not wrong.  What I do is right and good.  What I want is right and good.  What I believe is right, good, and true.  I am one of the strong ones.  I am one of the wise ones.  Scripture tells us that “There is a way that appears to be right, but in the end it leads to death” (Pr 14:12).  “A person may think their own ways are right, but the Lord weighs the heart” (Pr 21:2). We don’t need a way that only appears to be right.  We don’t need a way that we only think is right.  There’s too much at stake for such waffling, hesitancy, and reluctance.  What’s at stake?  Life, of course, and more than that: God, our relationship with God, our knowledge of God and what God expects of us.  If we get that wrong, we get everything wrong.  If we get it right, it is healing, blessing, restoration, and life for us.  The way of fight.  The way of flight.  And the way of salvation, which is witness, testimony to Jesus Christ. Jesus is amazed at the response, the lack of response.  It staggers me, too.  Doesn’t it just knock you to the floor, as you look around out there?  It’s as if people didn’t hear.  Maybe they just don’t care, can’t be bothered with such things.  Pastor and biblical scholar William Barclay puts the matter starkly: “Jesus was saddened by the sheer perversity of human nature [. . . .] No matter what was suggested, they did not want to do it; and no matter what was offered, they found a fault in it.”[3]  People don’t want to dance (celebrate, be glad, rejoice, in the Good News).  They certainly don’t want to mourn (repent, confess, change). No wonder—those are only two items on display in the marketplace of this world.  Another early teacher of the church reminds us that, in the marketplaces, “there are many items for sale.”[4]  The message of Jesus is one of many out there for people to try on for size.  The message of Jesus is, in some cases, not quite the same as the message of a church, so there’s added competition!  That same early teacher says it plainly: there are people who do not want to listen.  Put another way, people listen only to what they want to hear.  Is Barclay being perversely pessimistic or unflinchingly candid when he writes: “The plain fact is that when people do not want to listen to the truth, they will easily enough find an excuse for not listening to it [. . . .] If people are determined to make no response they will remain stubbornly unresponsive no matter what invitation is made to them.”[5] In the face of such stubbornness, such willfulness, such animosity and violence, what does hope look like?  Is there hope?  Here we are.  We are a people of hope.  We are God’s people.  Hope has a name: Jesus Christ.  Hope takes shape for us, not only in the Word of God read and proclaimed, but today especially, sacredly, simply, joyfully, in God’s Word sealed upon our hearts in this bread and this juice, this body and this blood of our Savior, given for us, given to us.  God draws near, here, so near that we can touch Him, by faith, so near that we can have the taste of His love and grace, by faith.  These are things revealed to little children, rather than to those who are wise, prominent, accomplished, righteous, honored, in their own eyes as well as the eyes of this stubborn, self-justifying world.  Our Savior says, and may these words take root in your heart, “No one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him” (11:27).  Beloved, he has chosen you.  Praise Him, joyfully.  Praise Him, simply.  Praise Him, ongoingly. Now, to the One who by the power at work within us is able to do far more abundantly than all we can ask or imagine, to God be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.                [1] Cyril of Alexandria.                [2] Hilary.                [3] William Barclay.  Gospel of Matthew.  Vol. 2.  Daily Study Bible.  Philadelphia: Westminster P, 1975.  9-10.                [4] Jerome.                [5] Barclay, 10.