I came to cast fire on the earth, and would that it were already kindled!
In the plan of St. Luke’s Gospel, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, travelling with determination towards his Passion, Death and Resurrection. The first incident in that journey recounted by St. Luke is an unhappy attempt to enter a Samaritan village. There James and John ask if they should call down fire from heaven to burn these people up (cf. Gn 19:24). But Jesus rebukes them (Lk 9:54).
Here, then, Jesus is not talking about destructive, consuming, punishing fire. He’s talking about the fire of the love of God; the fire of the Holy Spirit, who came as tongues of fire at Pentecost. This is the fire of which St. John the Baptist spoke, when he prophesied that Jesus would baptize in the Holy Spirit and in fire (3:16). It’s the fire also of the Seraphim, who blaze with heavenly joy as they bathe in the glory of God’s presence. Sharing in the radiance of divine holiness they cry out continuously: Holy Holy Holy Lord God of Hosts! (Is 6:3, Apoc 4:8). This is the fire also of transporting prayer, of which the mystics speak. If prayer is dialogue, mutual communication, communion with God, then sometimes by God’s grace it can transform, set alight, the person praying. Such prayer can lift us out of ourselves and up to God. Such prayer can make hearts burn with love so powerful, that we experience somehow already what it is to enter the life of the Holy Trinity.
Ignem veni mittere in terram: this was the motto taken in the 16th century by St. Ignatius of Loyola. These words captured for him that burning zeal for God’s glory which he wanted for all his sons. Ignatius wanted all Jesuits to be driven by ardent love for Jesus Christ and for his Church; by passion for evangelisation; by the urgent desire to spread the message of salvation, of eternal life, of holiness to the whole world.
Do we maybe fall a bit short of this ardent, burning zeal and love for God? If so, probably we should let ourselves be challenged, disconcerted, confronted by today’s Gospel text. Maybe we need to take our prayer, our love for Jesus, our commitment to his Kingdom a bit more seriously?
Of course this saying about fire is paradoxical. Jesus is indeed gentle and humble in heart. But also he is not to be under-estimated. Jesus is holy with the holiness of God, and as such he can be terrible. He is the one who walked on water, who commanded the storm, who shone with heavenly light on the Mountain, so that the privileged disciples were afraid (Lk 9:34). And at the end of time he will come in fire. Towards the end of the Journey to Jerusalem St. Luke will report another saying of Jesus: The day Lot left Sodom, says Jesus in Chapter 17, it rained fire and brimstone from heaven and destroyed them all. So it will be when the day comes for the Son of Man to be revealed (17:30).
Today’s Gospel continues with another paradoxical saying: I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished!
Jesus speaks here of his Passion and death. He knows that there will be inflicted on him the most extreme physical suffering that human ingenuity can devise. He knows too that he must endure also an unimaginably intense anguish of mind and heart. He knows his Passion will involve betrayal and humiliation and public failure, and finally the destruction of his life. And he longs for it to be accomplished. Why? Because it’s for this that he came. Lovingly obedient to his Father’s will, and sharing perfectly in that will, he knows what will be the result of his Passion for us: redemption, salvation, reconciliation, new creation, divine adoption, the Holy Spirit, the abundance of eternal life; our entry into God’s glory.
More paradoxes! Do you think I have come to bring peace on earth? No I tell you, but rather division.
But of course Jesus came to bring peace! The Angels sang of peace at his birth (Lk 2:14). His final prayer, according to St. John, was that all may be one (17:21 etc.) His Church is to be marked by unity, with the barrier of separation torn down, as St. Paul says (Eph 2:14), and all united in one love, in one Body, with one faith and one hope (cf. Eph 4:4). And we Christians typically long for peace also on earth. We pray for peace between nations, for an end to wars, for reconciliation between those who are at enmity.
Nevertheless: until the end of time, there will be divisions, and Jesus himself will sometimes, alas, be a cause of division. Already the earthly life and ministry of Jesus witnessed a clear separation: between those who believed in him and those who did not; between those who accepted him, and those who rejected him. In face of that, Jesus remained uncompromising. He insisted that discipleship must always take precedence over every other relationship and commitment whatever, and at whatever cost: even of life itself.
The language of Jesus about mother-in-law and daughter-in-law echoes a passage in the prophecy of Micah (7:6). Micah there speaks about the disintegration of unfaithful Israelite society on the eve of Assyrian invasion. But the coming of Jesus in glory will most certainly be a greater cataclysm than the coming of the Assyrians. Then will take place the great and final separation (cf. e.g. Lk 19:26; 20:16 etc.) Then at last, when the Kingdom is perfectly established in glory, all conflict will be at an end. But until then, the labour pains, the groaning (Rm 8:22), the distress must continue.
And now we have the Holy Eucharist: sign and instrument of unity and communion and peace. Also, so often, alas, source of pain and division; whether doctrinal or ecclesial or liturgical. Yet here we have the source of that burning fire which Jesus came to bring. So, as with Jesus himself we say: this is everything to us. This is the centre of our life. To be able to participate in this is our supreme privilege and blessing. So may this holy Eucharist transform us, according to the will, and into the likeness of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.