Father's Day Sermon - Matthew 10:28-31
Our Gospel reading today contains some of the most comforting words Jesus ever spoke, and at first reading some of the most troubling.
Three times I n the wider passage Jesus says: "Do not be afraid." Yet in the middle of those reassurances comes the difficult verse: In Verse 28 "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear the one who can destroy both soul and body in hell." The implication seems to suggest we should fear God who can destroy both body and soul in hell. What are we to make of that we might ask?
But it is important to begin by noticing the larger context. The dominant note of this passage is not fear but trust. Jesus speaks of sparrows reminding us us that not one of them falls to the ground apart from God's care. He says that even the hairs of our head are numbered, suggesting a love so great that every hair on our heads is treasured. And then Jesus says again: "So do not be afraid”.
The God Jesus speaks of here is not a distant ruler watching from afar. He speaks of God as a loving Father whose care extends to every person and to every corner of creation. And perhaps that is especially appropriate on Father's Day.
Not everyone has had an easy relationship with their earthly father. Yet at its best, fatherhood points beyond itself to a deeper reality: the steady, infinite love of the Divine that holds, protects, guides and encourages life.
A good father does not seek to possess his children. He does not try to make them smaller so that he can remain bigger. Rather, he delights in helping them become fully themselves. He encourages them to discover their gifts, to find their own voice, and to grow into the people they were created to be, fulfilling their true inner potential.
Perhaps that is one reason why Jesus so often speaks of God as Father. The Divine Father is not a rival or a threat to our human flourishing but its source. The desire of the Infinite Mind and the Great Heart is not to diminish us but to awaken us to our deepest identity. The spiritual journey is not about becoming something we are not; it is about becoming what we truly are.
From a spiritual perspective, our deepest self is rooted in God. Beneath all the labels we carry, beneath our successes and failures, beneath our fears and ambitions, there is a deeper life that comes from God and remains held within God. Jesus invites us to trust that behind the universe there is such a love.
But what then do we make of verse 28?
Many Christians have understood it as a warning about eternal punishment. Others have understood it differently – as a reminder that we cannot live with impunity, that God’s purifying and corrective love can be experienced as painful, even if it’s ultimate intention is loving. Yet whatever interpretation we take, we should notice that Jesus contrasts what human beings can do with what belongs only to God.
Human beings can harm the body. Human beings can threaten, intimidate and even kill. But they cannot touch the deepest reality of who we are.
From a deeper spiritual perspective, the soul represents the deeper dimension of our being, while our spirit participates in the life of God itself.
The great spiritual traditions remind us that beneath our differences there is a deeper unity. As St Paul says elsewhere, "In him we live and move and have our being." The perennial wisdom found in many traditions suggests that God is not merely one being among other beings, but the One Life in which all life participates, the great Ocean of Being from which every wave arises, the deeper consciousness in which all things exist. God is therefore the underlying intelligence and unity that binds all creation together.
And if that is true, then love is not merely a moral command. Love is the recognition of the underlying Unity-of-Reality itself... That all of us are connected to God/The Divine at the deepest level of spirit and therefore connected also to one-another, even those we would choose not to associate with.
Love is therefore a seeing through the illusion of separateness and a perception of that deeper inner connectedness. Love is recognising that the life in me and the life in you arise from the same divine source. Love is awakening to our common participation in the One and that therefore, you are my other-self.
Perhaps then we can hear Jesus' warning in a fresh way.
What harms or destroys the soul?
Not God acting out of vengeful anger, but living in opposition to, out of harmony with, reality itself.
Whenever we live from hatred, greed, selfishness, violence or indifference, we move against the grain of the universe. We move against the underlying unity of all things.
And when we do that, suffering follows. We suffer because we are acting contrary to the truth of our own being.
Perhaps this helps us understand why those who have witnessed or participated in violence and warfare are often left carrying deep psychological and spiritual wounds. Beyond the physical destruction, there can be what some have called a moral or spiritual injury. Something within us recognises that life is sacred, that we belong to one another, and that the harming of another human being leaves scars not only on the victim but also on the one who inflicts the harm.
At the deepest level of soul and spirit, we recognise our connectedness. We know, even if only dimly, that I cannot wound you without also wounding something within myself. I cannot diminish your humanity without diminishing my own.
Perhaps this is part of what Jesus is pointing toward. The real danger is not merely what can happen to the body. The deeper danger is becoming separated from love, from compassion, from the truth of who we are in God.
And so we experience something of what Jesus calls Gehenna. On the one hand it is the suffering that comes from living out of alignment with the Oneness of Reality. Gehenna, often translated as Hell in English was the name for the fire in the Valley of Hinom outside of Jerusalem where the rubbish from the city was taken to be burned. Gehenna is metaphorically the fire that burns away the rubbish of our lives —not necessarily as a place in the next world, but as the painful consequence of separation in this life and the purification that brings us back in alignment with the truth of reality.
Whenever we forget our connection to God, to one another and to creation, suffering follows. The fire is real, but perhaps its deepest purpose is not destruction for its own sake. It is the burning away of the illusion of the false separate self, the ego's insistence that it stands alone, the mistaken belief that we are separate from the Love that gave us birth.
Yet even here we should be careful. If this passage is read on its own, we might imagine that separation has the final word. But the wider witness of Scripture points us in another direction. St Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 15:22 "For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive."
The Christian story begins with humanity's original unity with God. It then speaks of the experience of separation, but in the end the Christian story it moves toward reconciliation. It begins in original goodness which is then lost in fear and estrangement, but ends again in love and communion.
And so the deepest truth about us is not that we are lost. The deepest truth is that we belong. We belong to one another. We belong to creation. But above all, we belong to the One from whom we came and in whom we live and move and have our being. There is a love that brought us into being, and there is a love that will eventually bring us home again, no matter how far we have strayed in between.
And perhaps that is what the best fathers teach us. They teach us that we do not need to live in fear.
They teach us that mistakes, however painful and disruptive, are not the end of the story. They teach us that courage grows when we know we are loved. They teach us that we are part of something larger than ourselves.
And the Divine Father, revealed in the life and teachings of Jesus, teaches the same truth on an infinite scale: that beneath all our fears, beneath all our struggles, beneath all our apparent separateness, we are held within a Love that will never let us go. As Huston Smith once said: “You cannot fall out of the Infinite” for God the Infinite contains and embraces everything and everyone.
And so perhaps the invitation of this Gospel is not to be frightened of God, but to trust God deeply enough to live truthfully and courageously.
Do not be afraid of those who can only touch the surface of life. Do not be afraid of loss, rejection, or even death itself. Rather, awaken to the deeper reality that lies beneath all things. Trust the Love that holds the sparrows – even when they fall to the ground. Trust the love that knows your name. Trust the love from which nothing can ultimately separate us, and then live from that love.
For whenever we do, we discover that the kingdom of God is not far away. It is already within us and among us. As we read in the The Gospel of Thomas – a book of profound sayings was never included in the Bible:
Vs 113 - His disciples said to him: On what day will the kingdom come? Jesus said: It will not come while people watch for it; they will not say: Look, here it is, or: Look, there it is; but the Kingdom of the Father is spread out over the earth, and people do not see it.
May we be given eyes to see it. Amen.
Our Gospel reading today contains some of the most comforting words Jesus ever spoke, and at first reading some of the most troubling.
Three times I n the wider passage Jesus says: "Do not be afraid." Yet in the middle of those reassurances comes the difficult verse: In Verse 28 "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear the one who can destroy both soul and body in hell." The implication seems to suggest we should fear God who can destroy both body and soul in hell. What are we to make of that we might ask?
But it is important to begin by noticing the larger context. The dominant note of this passage is not fear but trust. Jesus speaks of sparrows reminding us us that not one of them falls to the ground apart from God's care. He says that even the hairs of our head are numbered, suggesting a love so great that every hair on our heads is treasured. And then Jesus says again: "So do not be afraid”.
The God Jesus speaks of here is not a distant ruler watching from afar. He speaks of God as a loving Father whose care extends to every person and to every corner of creation. And perhaps that is especially appropriate on Father's Day.
Not everyone has had an easy relationship with their earthly father. Yet at its best, fatherhood points beyond itself to a deeper reality: the steady, infinite love of the Divine that holds, protects, guides and encourages life.
A good father does not seek to possess his children. He does not try to make them smaller so that he can remain bigger. Rather, he delights in helping them become fully themselves. He encourages them to discover their gifts, to find their own voice, and to grow into the people they were created to be, fulfilling their true inner potential.
Perhaps that is one reason why Jesus so often speaks of God as Father. The Divine Father is not a rival or a threat to our human flourishing but its source. The desire of the Infinite Mind and the Great Heart is not to diminish us but to awaken us to our deepest identity. The spiritual journey is not about becoming something we are not; it is about becoming what we truly are.
From a spiritual perspective, our deepest self is rooted in God. Beneath all the labels we carry, beneath our successes and failures, beneath our fears and ambitions, there is a deeper life that comes from God and remains held within God. Jesus invites us to trust that behind the universe there is such a love.
But what then do we make of verse 28?
Many Christians have understood it as a warning about eternal punishment. Others have understood it differently – as a reminder that we cannot live with impunity, that God’s purifying and corrective love can be experienced as painful, even if it’s ultimate intention is loving. Yet whatever interpretation we take, we should notice that Jesus contrasts what human beings can do with what belongs only to God.
Human beings can harm the body. Human beings can threaten, intimidate and even kill. But they cannot touch the deepest reality of who we are.
From a deeper spiritual perspective, the soul represents the deeper dimension of our being, while our spirit participates in the life of God itself.
The great spiritual traditions remind us that beneath our differences there is a deeper unity. As St Paul says elsewhere, "In him we live and move and have our being." The perennial wisdom found in many traditions suggests that God is not merely one being among other beings, but the One Life in which all life participates, the great Ocean of Being from which every wave arises, the deeper consciousness in which all things exist. God is therefore the underlying intelligence and unity that binds all creation together.
And if that is true, then love is not merely a moral command. Love is the recognition of the underlying Unity-of-Reality itself... That all of us are connected to God/The Divine at the deepest level of spirit and therefore connected also to one-another, even those we would choose not to associate with.
Love is therefore a seeing through the illusion of separateness and a perception of that deeper inner connectedness. Love is recognising that the life in me and the life in you arise from the same divine source. Love is awakening to our common participation in the One and that therefore, you are my other-self.
Perhaps then we can hear Jesus' warning in a fresh way.
What harms or destroys the soul?
Not God acting out of vengeful anger, but living in opposition to, out of harmony with, reality itself.
Whenever we live from hatred, greed, selfishness, violence or indifference, we move against the grain of the universe. We move against the underlying unity of all things.
And when we do that, suffering follows. We suffer because we are acting contrary to the truth of our own being.
Perhaps this helps us understand why those who have witnessed or participated in violence and warfare are often left carrying deep psychological and spiritual wounds. Beyond the physical destruction, there can be what some have called a moral or spiritual injury. Something within us recognises that life is sacred, that we belong to one another, and that the harming of another human being leaves scars not only on the victim but also on the one who inflicts the harm.
At the deepest level of soul and spirit, we recognise our connectedness. We know, even if only dimly, that I cannot wound you without also wounding something within myself. I cannot diminish your humanity without diminishing my own.
Perhaps this is part of what Jesus is pointing toward. The real danger is not merely what can happen to the body. The deeper danger is becoming separated from love, from compassion, from the truth of who we are in God.
And so we experience something of what Jesus calls Gehenna. On the one hand it is the suffering that comes from living out of alignment with the Oneness of Reality. Gehenna, often translated as Hell in English was the name for the fire in the Valley of Hinom outside of Jerusalem where the rubbish from the city was taken to be burned. Gehenna is metaphorically the fire that burns away the rubbish of our lives —not necessarily as a place in the next world, but as the painful consequence of separation in this life and the purification that brings us back in alignment with the truth of reality.
Whenever we forget our connection to God, to one another and to creation, suffering follows. The fire is real, but perhaps its deepest purpose is not destruction for its own sake. It is the burning away of the illusion of the false separate self, the ego's insistence that it stands alone, the mistaken belief that we are separate from the Love that gave us birth.
Yet even here we should be careful. If this passage is read on its own, we might imagine that separation has the final word. But the wider witness of Scripture points us in another direction. St Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 15:22 "For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive."
The Christian story begins with humanity's original unity with God. It then speaks of the experience of separation, but in the end the Christian story it moves toward reconciliation. It begins in original goodness which is then lost in fear and estrangement, but ends again in love and communion.
And so the deepest truth about us is not that we are lost. The deepest truth is that we belong. We belong to one another. We belong to creation. But above all, we belong to the One from whom we came and in whom we live and move and have our being. There is a love that brought us into being, and there is a love that will eventually bring us home again, no matter how far we have strayed in between.
And perhaps that is what the best fathers teach us. They teach us that we do not need to live in fear.
They teach us that mistakes, however painful and disruptive, are not the end of the story. They teach us that courage grows when we know we are loved. They teach us that we are part of something larger than ourselves.
And the Divine Father, revealed in the life and teachings of Jesus, teaches the same truth on an infinite scale: that beneath all our fears, beneath all our struggles, beneath all our apparent separateness, we are held within a Love that will never let us go. As Huston Smith once said: “You cannot fall out of the Infinite” for God the Infinite contains and embraces everything and everyone.
And so perhaps the invitation of this Gospel is not to be frightened of God, but to trust God deeply enough to live truthfully and courageously.
Do not be afraid of those who can only touch the surface of life. Do not be afraid of loss, rejection, or even death itself. Rather, awaken to the deeper reality that lies beneath all things. Trust the Love that holds the sparrows – even when they fall to the ground. Trust the love that knows your name. Trust the love from which nothing can ultimately separate us, and then live from that love.
For whenever we do, we discover that the kingdom of God is not far away. It is already within us and among us. As we read in the The Gospel of Thomas – a book of profound sayings was never included in the Bible:
Vs 113 - His disciples said to him: On what day will the kingdom come? Jesus said: It will not come while people watch for it; they will not say: Look, here it is, or: Look, there it is; but the Kingdom of the Father is spread out over the earth, and people do not see it.
May we be given eyes to see it. Amen.
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