One of the benefits for me of participating with you in Bible studies – either early on Tuesday mornings or in the middle of vestry meetings – is that in the short time I’ve been here, I’ve already come to know some of the patterns of language or theological ideas in scripture that tend to trouble some of you.  I smiled to myself when I read this passage from Matthew as I began to prepare my sermon for this week.  “Not everyone who says ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.”  “Uh oh,” I thought.  “This is going to go over like a lead balloon.” 

      In my brief experience here so far, one of the hot button issues for this congregation is any hint, any perception of exclusivity.  Another trouble spot is the idea of heaven, what it is, whether it even exists.  What made me smile was the idea that some of us might be bothered by who’s in and who’s out of a place (heaven) that we don’t believe necessarily exists.

      It’s these hot-button scriptures that often tell me where to start writing my sermons, whether the reading is pushing one of my hot buttons or someone else’s. And just so you know, it’s fine with me if you still don’t like the Gospel reading when my sermon’s done. I just think that the places in scripture that provoke or disturb are so much more interesting to explore and to engage with than the places that feel like a good fit. You know the old saying, if your shoes fit there’s nothing to talk about?

      I mentioned last week that the first of five courses that Jesus teaches in the Gospel of Matthew has to do with living into the realm of God.  Matthew actually calls it “the kingdom of heaven.”  In fact, if you hear the phrase “kingdom of heaven” you can be sure that the scripture reference is the Gospel of Matthew.  Kingdom of God and kingdom of heaven mean the same thing in terms of how they are used in the gospels.  Scholars think that Matthew’s use of the word heaven for God comes from more traditional Jewish practice to not utter the name of God.  We do a similar thing today when we say “oh for heaven’s sake” rather than “for God’s sake” or “oh my heavens” instead of “oh my God.”

      But what is the kingdom of heaven? Well you could fill a library with books written on this question.  For our purposes this morning, let’s say that it’s more of a power than a place – more of a condition than a location – more of a dynamic than a destination.  The Paulist Father Richard Chilson calls the Kingdom of Heaven “Love’s Dominion” or “Love’s Rule.”1   I often substitute the word love for God in my prayer and my preaching.  With that substitution in mind, listen to Jesus’ message that way:  “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the rule of love, but only the one who does the will of my Love.”  It’s actions of love that create an entrance into the rule of love.  In other words, Jesus is saying that talk is cheap.  At the end of his gospel, Matthew spells out the actions of love that create an entrance into the rule of love:  give food to those who are hungry, give drink to those who are thirsty, welcome those who are strange, give clothing to those who are naked, care for those who are sick, visit those who are imprisoned.

      These actions of love build the firm foundation for the rule of love.  These actions of love are rock solid, Jesus is saying.  But what about when love or loyalty is used to justify or even promote violence or a desire to annihilate the other?  We can see that in big ways in cases of domestic violence and abuses of personal power.  We can also see that in global violence and abuses of political, military and/or economic power.

      This week some of us will gather to watch and talk about James Carroll’s documentary called “Constantine’s Sword.”  I hope you’ll join us if you can on Tuesday evening at the Coolidge Corner Theater in Brookline for the screening.  The movie is about James Carroll’s own spiritual journey of discovery of the unholy alliance between Christian religion and military power, beginning with the emperor Constantine and continuing through to today, and the devastating consequences on Jews and Muslims and anyone else who has gotten in the way.

      We are right to reject any alliance, any action, which fails to respect the dignity of another. But we modern liberal people of faith, not wanting to be tarnished by Christian imperialism or exclusivism, often go to the opposite extreme of picturing Jesus as the benign blesser of whatever people feel like as long as it seems gracious or nice or harmless.2 Yet for Christians, “wherever you are on your spiritual journey,” (Emmanuel Church’s wonderful welcoming motto) cannot also mean, “whatever” and “whenever it is convenient.”

      In his book entitled The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, martyred by the Nazi government in the Second World War, wrote:  “Humanly speaking, it is possible to understand the Sermon on the Mount in a thousand different ways.  But Jesus knows only one possibility:  simple surrender and obedience – not interpreting or applying it, but doing it and obeying it.  That is the only way to hear his words.  He does not mean for us to discuss it as an ideal.  He really means for us to get on with it.”