“There are two Ways: a Way of Life and a Way of Death, and the difference between these two Ways is great.”[1]

So begins the ancient Christian text from the second century called The Didache. It belongs to an experience of religion much starker, harder, and more demanding and difficult than our own: to a religion and a time when the preachers of religions had much less to lose, when truth was all they had to give.

A biblical experience, having to choose between clear good and clear evil, it was Moses who first pointed out to Israel the fork in the road: “Here, then, I have today set before you life and prosperity, death and doom. If you obey,” he said, “you will live and grow numerous…If, however, you turn away…I tell you now you will certainly perish.”[2] It’s why God has always called for himself leaders and prophets and the devil false ones—the latter to confuse and complicate, the former to call out and bring about crisis and decision. As Joshua said at Shechem to a wayward Israel, “As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”[3] It is a ministry which has on occasion burdened the preachers of God; it’s why Paul said, “woe to me if I do not preach it!”[4] The truth which must be told, which must issue from the mouths of preachers worth anything: it’s that which believers must, if they’re to remain genuine believers, from time to time hear—not just all the blessings, but woes too; not just the good which we must do, but the evil we must also avoid. That is, if this Christianity business is real; if our being Christians isn’t a joke.

It’s what Jesus is doing, preaching to his own. As Luke makes clear, Jesus is speaking to his disciples: “Blessed are you…Woe to you.”[5] He’s warning his disciples about the dangers of wealth; reminding them of the covenant ideal set forth in Deuteronomy 15, that “there should be no one of you in need.”[6] The kingdom of God, the community Jesus calls into being, is a community of mutual charity, a community of sharing in which rich and poor are friends, a friendship built on radical almsgiving and forgiveness, radical equity. It’s the sort of friendship Jesus would talk about later in Luke’s Gospel when he preached about Dives and Lazarus, and when he invited the rich young man to follow him, but who wouldn’t because he wouldn’t let go of his possessions, a young man who “became quite sad,” Luke writes, “for he was very rich.”[7]

This is the sort of life Jesus sets before his disciples, saying in essence, “Choose.” The vulnerable, precarious life of sacrificial giving and in some instances real, voluntary poverty or a life devoid of sharing, like the rich man who all his life never even saw the poor right outside his door: the life of blessing or woe. Just like Moses, like Joshua, Jesus stands before his disciples pointing out the fork in the road, the crisis, the choice that must be made. A life of giving or a life of tight-fistedness, that’s the question each of us must answer, whatever our income or savings—this question that cuts right to the heart and your wallet, and which only you can answer.

But, of course, first, religion must become for you something more than feeling, something more than moral suggestion. For most of us, religion no longer has the power to make these sorts of demands. Our preachers today don’t say, “Woe to you.” They’re afraid to say that. They tried to throw Jesus off a cliff, you remember, when he first started preaching; what preacher wants that?[8] Better to offer you some nice little anecdote and keep you happy until the next capital campaign rolls around. Few are the preachers who’ll point out the fork in the road, the good you should pursue and the evil you should avoid, preaching like your soul was a stake, like it mattered. Which is why, probably, this gospel seems so strange to us; why hearing Jesus say anything harsh seems odd—because we preachers have been preaching to you a false Christ for too long.

And so, as a preacher, let me ask your permission to preach to you the truth. Become the sort of Christians that can hear truth, the difficult truth and not just the easy stuff. Become the sort of Christians that rejoice in the liberating conviction of truth, in being told—yes—you’d better do well with all that wealth you’ve been blessed with, because you’re not going to like judgment day if you’re greedy, if you neglect the poor, if you’re not generous. This is a gospel meant for all of us, rich and poor together; yet, it’s quite clear Jesus points to the great responsibility of those with great wealth. Jesus is speaking to all his disciples, though, to our hearts. And what he said then, he’s still saying today; it’s a gospel meant to be fulfilled in us.[9] That’s why the question for me is simply whether I’ve got the guts to preach it; and for you whether you’ve got the hearts to hear it; and for us whether we’ll work together to see the kingdom lived out in our time.

Which I hope we do, that we can be Christians here. For our blessing’s sake instead of our woe. Because that’s what Jesus wants, for me and for you—blessing, not woe. Amen.

[1] The Didache 1.1

[2] Deuteronomy 30:15-18

[3] Joshua 24:15

[4] 1 Corinthians 9:16

[5] Luke 6:20

[6] Deuteronomy 15:4

[7] Luke 16:9-31; 18:18-23

[8] Luke 4:29

[9] Luke 4:21

© 2022 Rev. Joshua J. Whitfield