"Agree to Disagree" by Rev. Jillian Hankamer, 3/2/2025

A sermon for Northminster Church

Matthew 6: 25-34

             I’d like for you to imagine you’re present with the disciples to hear Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.

You and I are sitting knee-to-knee on that high place listening to this man from Galilee preach. We arrived late because we had to stop every parasa for you to retie the strap of your “lucky” sandals that constantly come undone. There was so little seating we were forced to wedge ourselves against a scratchy boulder, far to Jesus’ right, but at least it provides some back support.

             As we were getting settled and catching our breath, we caught the tail end of something Jesus was saying about not being able to serve God and money. I joked to you that I’d be willing to test my faith if it meant I had a tax collector’s money, at least for a day or two. You laughed, then shushed me. Jesus was looking our way and seemed, somehow, to have heard what I said. With his unearthly gaze still fixed on us, he moved on…

Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on.

You look at me, and I can hear what you’re thinking. That’s a little naïve. Clearly this guy doesn’t have children to worry about.

             Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?

We both nod, thoughtfully. Those things are fundamental, but of course, there’s more to life than food and clothes.

Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns,          and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?

I roll my eyes. There’s a reason the saying is ‘bird-brain.’ Birds aren’t smart enough to plan. I can tell from the look on your face that you don’t appreciate being compared to a bird.

And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to [your] span of life?   And why are you anxious about clothing?

That’s a decent point about anxiety, I think. But until it's socially acceptable to walk around without clothes on, my worries about how to keep my family clothed won’t stop.

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

Again, I can hear you thinking, Stop with these nature analogies, Rabbi! Those are flowers. I’m a person. You’ve never had much patience for a lack of practicality.

If God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?

This gets my dander up. You don’t even know me, Jesus. How do you know anything about my faith?

Therefore, do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we          drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

I feel you stiff beside me. Did this man just compare us to Gentiles? I know you’re wondering why you let me talk you into coming to hear this itinerate rabbi. I’m amazed you haven’t insisted we leave already.

Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”

             I sneak a peek at you and find you already looking at me. Our eyes meet. His talk about birds and flowers is clearly nonsense, but in this, Jesus has spoken truth. Maybe there is something to what he’s saying. We silently agree to stay and listen a bit longer.

             We will never know what reaction Jesus’ audience had to the Sermon on the Mount, though surely some in the crowd struggled.

 Of Jesus’ teachings, this is one I struggle with most personally and professionally because, as you know, I live with anxiety and depression. As Radar says in an episode of M*A*S*H when the topic of fear comes up, “That’s my best thing.”^[1]  I recognize now that worry, or anxiety in my case, has been my best thing since childhood. I’ve also told you before that I worry most when there’s nothing to worry about. Therapy and medication are helpful, and yet anxiety is my constant companion. It lives right here within me at all times, not tangible, but clearly defined and present enough that I can access it at any time. Said more simply, my anxiety is part of me whether I like it or not, and so I struggle with Jesus’ words in these verses.

             If I could talk to him face-to-face, I’d confess to Jesus that I’ve always struggled with this teaching. If we could sit and have coffee – I’m confident Jesus is a coffee drinker, not a tea guy – I would tell him this is a passage we’ll have to agree to disagree on because I’ve been trying unsuccessfully not to worry my whole life. My brain simply never stops worrying, even at its healthiest. And though I’m willing and have given my whole life to the service of God, this is one place where I will always fail. At this point, I’m fairly sure Jesus would laugh lovingly and sympathetically at my distress and say something like the following:

              Dear one, my love for you is not contingent upon your ability to follow my teachings exactly. My love for you extends from the very heart of God and is expansively yours. I understand your imperfections better than you do and don’t love you in spite of them, but with the knowledge that they’re part of you. All I ever ask is that you work on those places where you fall short in our relationship, not because I need you to, but so that you can experience the peace and plenty of God’s kin-dom.

             My intention in the Sermon on the Mount all those years ago was never to vilify worry. I understand that not being able to predict the future is stressful for you, and I recognize your need to plan ahead. What I don’t want if for you to be so motivated by planning for every eventual outcome that you forget to live the life I’ve given you. Nor should you be consumed by the things you’ve amassed to prepare for the future because the truth is, “acquiring things doesn’t reduce anxiety. It generates it.”^[2]

             Know as well that I understand food and clothing are fundamental. I was human and have experience with how poorly bodies work when hungry or overheated. What I hoped you’d understand from my words, “your heavenly Father knows you need them all,” is that your “physical needs are known and understood by God.”^[3]  I do discount your needs, but want you to think beyond yourself and see the needs of others.

             You must also keep the context of my sermon in mind. My command not to worry is one part of a much longer sermon that was composed for a specific group of people at a particular time in history. And though much of what I said then translates into your world, you have a personal relationship with me that the people during my lifetime didn’t necessarily have. I had to help them understand that the kin-dom of God didn’t belong to “the Temple elite, but to [them;] the poor in spirit, the mourners, the meek, the peacemakers.”^[4]

             For that original audience, there was a need to disconnect them from a deeply entrenched hierarchical system that doesn’t exist in your world. This is part of the reason I even mentioned clothing. In my time, even more than today, “clothes were the outward mark of social rank…the wealthy, including priests and scribes connected with the Temple establishment, were easily identified by their snazzy robes.”^[5] I have no patience for such behavior and wanted my disciples and people to understand that social rank – in all the ways humanity displays it – has no place in God’s kin-dom.    

             But what I wanted to communicate most, with my examples of birds and flowers and instructing those folks in that high place to seek the kin-dom of God first, was that “when the [kin-dom] is lived on earth…then indeed there will be peace and plenty and more than enough for everyone.”

             At least that’s the Good News I understand as I step out of this conversation with Jesus. My friends, Jesus isn’t commanding us to be unconcerned about feeding our families or instructing us not to take seriously the need of children to have a good winter coat. Jesus isn’t condemning worry or even expecting us to have a perfect, unfaltering faith.  What Jesus is doing is describing how the kin-dom of God can be lived out, right now, by remembering that God understands our needs and loves us with a love that can’t be earned. Our purposes as recipients of this gift, as people of God, is to live in such a way that “all people have dignity, open table fellowship is practiced by all…hierarchy is upended…”^[6] and everyone we encounter is recognized and treated as a beloved child of God.

             Beloved, there’s so much we can agree to disagree about. But as we sit together knee-to-knee listening to the words of Jesus, the inclusivity and openness of God’s kin-dom shouldn’t be one of them. The lie of worry is violence and scarcity. The promise of God is peace and plenty. Let’s make the effort to share this truth with every child of God we encounter.

^[1] From M*A*S*H season 4 episode, “Smilin’ Jack.”

^[2] John Petty, “Progressive Involvement” blog. February 20, 2011.

^[3] Ibid.

^[4] Ibid.

^[5] Ibid.

^[6] Ibid.