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A Sermon by Cynthia Bauleke
A Sermon by Cynthia Bauleke
Meeting
Jesus Again for the First Time . . .
Luke 13:31-35
- Lent 2- March 7, 2004 We are on the
road to Jerusalem in this season of Lent. Each of us has different ways of
making this journeying. Some with devotions, time for prayer or meditation,
spiritual or theological reading, some attend Lenten classes, or pursue another
spiritual discipline. Others of you may have given up some habit or pleasure for
Lent. For others it is just another season in the year of the church. No matter
how you may choose to observe Lent, this season of forty days plus six Sundays,
brings us all to the same place. To Good Friday, the somber day of sadness when
we remember the crucifixion of Jesus in Jerusalem, and three days later the
celebration of new life in Easter resurrection. In our Lenten
worship we focus on the life of Jesus and this year our sermons center on a
little book by Marcus Borg, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time. It is
not a new book, it has been around for a decade, and yet it is well worth
reading, for Borg makes accessible the research and scholarly work, the literary
criticism, and modern interpretation of the Bible which has been taught in
seminaries for years. This contemporary scholarship questions the intent of the
writers of the Bible, “Just what was the point they were trying to make by the
way they put together their stories and words?” For when we attempt to
understand the times and the bias of the authors, we are better able to
interpret the Bible for our time. Contemporary
scholarship questions the image of Jesus meek and mild some of us learned in our
childhood, offering instead the image of One who challenged the economic,
social, and political structures, as well as the religious structures of his
time. Over and over again Jesus engaged in a politics of compassion which broke
rules and shattered boundaries. Raising for us the question of just how do we
follow this One who was willing to risk everything by living out God’s love in
radically different and dangerous ways? We see it in
today’s scripture. With the Pharisees playing the good guys, for a change, they
come warning Jesus that Herod is after him, wanting his life. I have to admit, I
am surprised by the sharpness of Jesus’ response, “Go and tell that fox for me,
I am casting out demons and healing people before I must be on my way. Besides
prophets aren’t killed outside of Jerusalem.” Jesus knows he is a wanted man,
he has threatened the power of Herod, who is running scared and is out for
blood, still Jesus stops on his way to care and to cure. There is a word
that jumps out of this account – a word that appears again and again in Luke’s
narrative. The word MUST. Jesus must be on his way – he must go to Jerusalem.
This mission is not negotiable, it is not tentative, it is not changeable. There
is a passion burning in Jesus’ soul, a mission, a call, a vocation – that
defines the very heart of who he is, in relationship with God. He will heal and
help, yet nothing and nobody can dissuade him – not crafty, foxy Herod, not the
curious Pharisees, not even the hurting, scared, needy people hanging off the
edges of the crowd wherever Jesus goes – those strangers begging Jesus to save
them, to fix them, to heal them. Jesus is clear he will heal for awhile, but he
is Jerusalem bound. Our text suggests
that Jesus pauses for just a moment in the midst of his mission and his must. He
pauses and spreads the wings of his imagination – with an image of compassion
and love. Glancing from the Mount of Olives across the Kidron Valley, looking
toward Jerusalem, he laments, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the broken city that kills
the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to
gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and
you were not willing!” And because I cannot force you to come, and you are
unwilling to come, to accept the protection and the warmth and the promise of
God’s nurturing love, I must go on. You will not see me again until the palm
branches have been swept up, until the bread has been broken, until the nails
have been hammered and my broken body has been laid to rest. Maybe then, after I
have gone through my pain and you have gone through yours, maybe then you will
come to me and gather under me and with me in God’s healing and reconciling and
empowered domain. Jesus still gives us the choice of gathering under God’s
wings, a place of love and compassion. In spite of our
President’s claims, compassion is in exile, yet is so desperately needed if we
are to survive. According to theologian Matthew Fox, compassion is the world’s
richest energy source, the fullest experience of the spiritual life. Compassion
is a passionate way of living – growing out of an awareness of our
interconnectedness with all of creation and with the Creator. To be
compassionate is to put our full energy into justice making, to relieve the pain
of the earth, the pain of our sisters and our brothers. Nobel Peace Prize
recipient and Buddhist theologian, Thich Nhat Hanh, echoes this concern,
believing this must be a century of spirituality if we are to survive. Thich
Nhat Hanh defines spirituality as seeing the nature of interbeing between
people, nations, races, and all forms of life. Spirituality is no longer a
luxury, but a necessity if we are to overcome the difficulties of our time. He
goes on to say that alone we are vulnerable, but in community, with our sisters
and brothers we can support each other. It is in community we can resist the
temptation of despair. Henri Nouwen also
identifies spirituality and compassion as those forces drawing us toward a
deeper engagement in the burning issues of our time, moving us from fear and
hostility to hospitality, turning the enemy into guest, offering a space where
guest and host can bring new life to each other. Marcus Borg tells
us that for Jesus, compassion was the central quality of God, the quality we are
called to live out day by day. In the last analysis, Jesus’ methods of
compassion have the only long-term promise of peace and justice. Jesus’ advocacy
of compassion continues to be an invitation and a challenge to the church in our
time. Oscar Romero
became a prophet about whom these words are true. Named Archbishop of El
Salvador during a treacherous and bloody civil war, he was transformed from a
predictable bookworm into a leader of human rights and eloquent spokesperson for
justice and peacemaking. His words sank heavily against the political machine of
El Salvador. Like Jesus,
Archbishop Romero wept for his country. He longed to gather all factions
together into harmony and grieved the seeming impossibility of hope made
manifest in his blood-soaked country. This formerly squeamish man became a
figure of dangerous courage and relentless persistence marching ultimately
toward death. His story reminds
us of Dr. Martin Luther King’s in our own country. The widespread residual evils
of a slave society and economy were altered by his non-violent campaign of
compassion. Both Romero and King wrote letters and profound words of
encouragement and prophecy to their people, which raised the ire of many. For
those who chose to follow, there was the possibility of death. The realities of
Jerusalem in Jesus’ day have been repeated in many times and places: in Alabama
during the Civil Rights movement, in San Salvador during El Salvador’s civil
war. In South Africa where Nelson Mandela, spent twenty-seven years in prison,
yet rather than giving in to bitterness, Mandela lived a life of love for his
tormentors and lead in the dissolution of apartheid in South Africa. The blood
bath so certainly prophesied never came. While like our country, South Africa
still has a long way to go, the progress of liberating their oppressed majority
continues. These men of
faith are remembered for their courage and for the strength of their convictions
led by the Spirit, living lives of compassion. They leave deep legacies which
played an important role in changing the political realities of their countries.
They chose with commitment and determination to stand with the people,
proclaiming the injustice evident all around them and declaring God’s demand for
compassion. Such prophets are indeed dangerous, just as surely as they are gifts
from God. While we may not
be called to lay down our life, we are most certainly called to do justice, to
love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God. As those who follow Jesus, how can
we do less than seek the places around us where injustice cries out in need of
compassion? What is it that
motivates you? For which you are willing to take risks? What is it that can
allow you to become vulnerable and risk failure, that invites you to push your
comfort zones, perhaps even to disappoint others along the way? Is it the love
of a child – so fierce that you can withstand fear and mistakes as you struggle
to love and nurture with wisdom and understanding? Is it reaching out to a
stranger in need, in spite of your own fears? Is it a vision for this church -
resisting vested interests and forging a future of ministry and mission outside
the lines? Is it a passion for justice – that motivates you beyond the prejudice
and lethargy and politics of our resistant world? Is it a professional ethic –
that demands you stand up to the status quo even at the risk of money and
advancement in order to do what is right – in order to keep your integrity
intact? Jesus models for us – and mandates for us – a life of compassion. What
is it in your life which is worth living for? What is it we are
to be about as a compassionate community? Where are the boundaries in need of
shattering, the rules needing to be broken? If we follow Jesus example, at the
very lest, we are to shelter all kinds of chicks, all kinds of people, including
the outcasts, and maybe even a couple of ducks. As Jesus
continues on his way to Jerusalem he refuses to run from the foxes, and he
refuses to become one of them. He keeps his wings outstretched. He is not
concerned with himself, even in the face of death, Jesus is focused on God’s
work. Like a mother hen – wings open, breast exposed – God’s unquenchable,
uncontrollable love draws all into its fold, loving and vulnerable. God reaches
out again and again in compassion, inviting us to gather under the protective
shelter of God’s wings, inviting us in compassion to reach out to the world. Blessed is the
one who comes in the name of the Lord. Amen. Resources: Andrews, Susan R., “Second
Sunday in Lent” Lectionary Homiletics. Borg, Marcus, Meeting
Jesus Again for the First Time. Craig, Caroline, “Second
Sunday in Lent” Lectionary Homiletics. Fox, Matthew, A
Spirituality Named Compassion. Nouwen, Henri, Reaching
Out. Tich Nhat Hanh, Friends on
the Path.
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