Over vacation, I watched a Netflix documentary on a break-away polygamist sect, the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and the devastating impact of their two so-called prophets, Rulon Jeffs and son, Warren Jeffs. The last scene of the four part series is one of those voiceover reenactments, retold by one of the dozens of young wives of the elderly prophet, Alicia Rohbock. In it, Alicia describes how she finally decided to escape from the religious society that controlled her body, kidnapped her children, and dictated every aspect of her life, down to her underwear and the style of her hair. Her mother and her brother helped her pack up all her belongings in a trailer truck. As she drove away behind the truck, she watched as the trailer doors flew open and all her belongings - the dresses, the long underwear, all the teachings of the prophet - were scattered across the highway and run over by passing trucks and cars. In that moment she thought, I have to start all over. Brand new. Brand-spanking new. And that's the last scene, her driving on, free, in control of her own body, her children, her destiny.
The title of the documentary, "Keep Sweet: Pray and Obey," draws from the motto of the elder prophet, Rulon. It describes what he taught a woman’s relationship with her husband should always be - sweet and submissive. But the women who escaped the cult would tell you that the patience, faithfulness, kindness, gentleness, and self-control they cultivated were not the fruit of the spirit. They were the fruit of fear and control, and a distinct absence of joy and peace. They were born out of submission to a cruel and abusive yoke.
True fruit of the Spirit comes from freedom. Including love, especially love. It must be freely chosen by the self, within the self. From an authentic, unforced yes to Christ. My mentor's favorite motto summarizes it this way: Let your no’s be no’s and your yes’s be yes’s.
In our Gospel passage, we see how Jesus responds to choices made by people and communities, to no's and yes's and choices halfway in between.
Jesus' face is set toward Jerusalem. Because of this, Luke records, he was turned away by a village of Samaritans on his way. Despite their rejection, Jesus refuses to condemn them, punish them, or waste anymore time on them, even at the coaxing of his disciples. He lets their no be a no and moves on - because he is clear about his goal and destiny. He continues forward toward hope, undeterred.
It is for the halfway yes’s that Jesus reserves harsh words. Yes, but first let me bury my father; yes, but first let me say farewell. These are good reasons, noble reasons to delay leaving everything behind. I don't think Jesus is condemning grief or closure. These sayings instead highlight that the hardest choices in our lives are sometimes those between two good and beautiful things.
Furthermore, when we make our choice but still remain caught, looking back, wondering what if, straining to see what the other choice would have brought us, our yes is likewise a halfway yes. We are stuck between two realities, as if we are driving away from an abusive life with a truck packed full of all that life’s trappings. "No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God." Jesus’ response may be less about one's inherent worthiness and more about the simple fact that one's presence in the kingdom is not yet complete until it is freely and fully chosen. Until we let go of what could have been. Until we choose to keep driving after the truck doors fly open, until we abandon our baggage on the side of the highway, until we choose to free ourselves, we may not be ready for what the kingdom asks of us.
Over the past three years, I have had many conversations with parishioners who feel torn between two good and noble values. The stakes felt particularly high for the parents discerning what is best for their children and their family, conscious that they were at the same time modeling how to make good choices in front of their kids. They pondered questions like: should I teach my kids to follow through on their commitments to their sports teams or should I teach them to prioritize making time for church and their faith? What's more important: risks to community health or my child's spiritual and social development? At the heart of all these things was the question, how am I to love, and love well?
Jesus shows us that love, especially sacrificial love, must be freely chosen. When Jesus sets his face to Jerusalem, he is freely choosing to give of himself for us, to break his body for us. Jesus’ sacrifice is love because it is freely done. He does not waver from his choice.
As a chaplain to the gynecological and labor and delivery units of a hospital in Sacramento, I also accompanied parents and would-be parents and about-to-be parents caught between two horrific outcomes, trying to discern what was best for their children and their family. My role was to advocate for their right to rely on their spiritual resources and their faith in the face of life-threatening circumstances with no good options, sometimes in opposition to their medical team. These were heart-breaking, terrible choices, ranging from the termination of pregnancy to the halting of NICU life support. They were choices that deserved to be fully informed and freely made, grounded in the true convictions of the people who came to me for guidance, support, and prayer. Grounded in love.
For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery. For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters. For freedom is the heart of love.
What does it look like to offer Christ’s freedom to ourselves and those around us? First, it looks like finding a way to let our yes's be yes's and our no's be no's, freely and fully chosen. Second, it looks like continuous invitation into a life of deep meaning to those around us, even those who are likely to say no. We respect rejection because in doing so we are ultimately respecting the freedom Christ has given to each of us. Even when others make different choices, we remain faced toward Jerusalem, toward hope and our deeply held goals. Third, it looks like continuous support for people to live out their truest values whole-heartedly and authentically, even, and especially, when the choices are difficult or confusing. Reminding one another that love springs from a whole-hearted, freely chosen yes.
Standing for Christ's freedom looks like reaching out a hand to those who are still not free. People like the cult leader's wife, Alicia, yearning to break from years of mental, spiritual, and emotional prisons. Victims of human trafficking and domestic abuse, those trapped by poverty and addiction, unwanted and cast aside children, every person denied the ability to love or worship or express themselves or care for their bodies as they would freely choose. Standing for Christ's freedom looks like risking for them, fighting for them, even, and especially, when those injustices are being justified by fellow Christians and Christian scriptures.
We set our faces toward hope, life, and the freedom that has been promised to us in Christ. We let the truck doors fly open and we drive on.
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| Alicia Rohbock, still from the Netflix Documentary, "Keep Sweet: Pray and Obey" |
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