There is a saying: Good things come in threes. I have chosen three words to title this sermon. I pray they convey something good. I chose the words, clarity, compassion, and courage. Aside from the alliteration, I see these three words describing what is happening in today’s lectionary reading from Luke’s Gospel. Clarity is taking stock of what is going on, looking deeply into the context of the situation between the Pharisees and Jesus. Compassion is how Jesus looks at the city of Jerusalem. Courage is how Jesus responds to the warning by the Pharisees.
First of all, this passage from Luke can be confusing. The Pharisees are supposed to be the bad guys in the gospel story, but here they are warning Jesus to be careful lest that old fox Herod kills him. Regardless of their motives in warning him to be careful, Jesus makes it plain: "Tell that fox for me: ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.” In other words, the mission of Jesus would not stop. Healing would continue. Wholeness would continue. Love would continue. Jesus did not give in to what others thought was a safer, more reasonable path. His face was turned toward Jerusalem, the center of Jewish life, the location of the Temple, and the place where Jesus would be arrested, tortured and killed. With Jerusalem in his sights, Jesus couldn’t care less what Herod, the ruler in Galilee, had to think.
From clarity we move to compassion. “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the 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!”
The words here are reminiscent of words from the psalms and the prophets where God is eager to care for God’s people, but the people were blind or stubborn and would not receive the divine gift of love. What makes the words even more poignant is the setting. Confronted with the reality of death at the hands of the rulers in Jerusalem, Jesus names what has happened to others who have sought to preach God’s word there, how they were killed and stoned. And then he pronounces God’s intention for shalom and reconciliation for the people there. How often. How often. Like a mother hen, God, or Jesus, desires to gather her brood. To protect them, to protect us, from harm, from every danger, from lives that are lived wrongly, faithlessly, unjustly.
There is a divine courage displayed here. A passion with purpose. A single minded focus on healing and making whole. This courage is palpable. It serves as a model, however difficult, for those who follow the Jesus Way.
So what does this mean for us, here and now? Using those three guiding words, how might we find clarity, experience compassion, choose courage in light of this gospel lesson?
First of all, when we apply scripture to our daily lives, we are not dealing with allegory. The Pharisees warning Jesus about Herod is just that. It would be a misapplication of the passage to have it refer to our own political situation in the United States.
Still, we are in the world, as was Jesus, and can benefit from asking clarifying questions, like, “what kind of warnings are we hearing in our lives, well meaning or not, that would alert us to dangers or challenges to a faithful life?” Warning! Cigarettes cause cancer. Warning! The bridge is out. Warning! A hurricane is headed our way. Warning! Touching your tongue onto a metal pole in freezing weather will not result in a good ending.
Warnings are all around us, many of which are necessary to keep us healthy and safe. Taken to extremes, however, warnings might leave us in a state of perpetual fear and anxiety. We could be like the title character on the television show, Monk, and be afraid of nearly everything. Paralyzed into inaction. Therefore, we need to discern which warnings demand action from us and which do not.
Last week in church we heard the Sermon on the Mount passage where Jesus uses the analogy of a wise person building their house on a rock. It is from this sure foundation, this rock, that one is able to hear warnings and decide the best way to act. Our faith, our relationship with God whom we see and know in Jesus, is that rock. From this vantage point, from this spiritual center, we can see what is true for us.
Not all people will act the same way with the same warning, however, even if they all understand themselves to be on solid ground. That is why we turn to God for God’s compassion, God’s forgiveness, even God’s humility to guide our discernment.
In January, Pastor Meighan preached on the Sermon on the Mount passage where Jesus tells his listeners to love their enemies. I saw a church sign this past week that read: “Love your enemies. No exceptions.” But this begs the question. Not the question of who is my enemy (that comes easy to us), not even the question of why love one’s enemies (because Meighan answered that in her sermon) but the question of what kind of love is this. What kind of love looks at one’s own wounds and fears and still is able to choose forgiveness and acceptance?
What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul! What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
I look around me and within me and see so much that is not healthy and is broken. I want to run away from it, ignore it, rail against it. Then I hear the gospel and know I am not alone, that I am loved, that I am called to find a way to listen to those who hear different warnings than I do or want to act differently than I, in response to the same warnings. It is then that I understand what Jesus meant when he said, “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 I know Jesus is speaking to me, to us and to our world.
We have wasted so much time and resources on things that do not make for peace or justice. Our priorities are upside down. As the Apostle Paul said, I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. We love things and use people rather than love people and use things. Still, God loves us. Go figure. Grace, grace, amazing grace.
That’s the compassion piece. God loves us. God seeks to gather us under God’s wing even as we have ignored this divine promise, even as we have placed ourselves on some kind of throne of our own making.
So, with clarity we see that life has warnings, to which we need to discern how to respond. In the light of our faith, what threats are worth taking seriously? How do we hear a compassionate God, one who loves us beyond our deserving, and respond with compassion to those around us? How do we let God be God, knowing God is in charge as we face our own Jerusalems?
We need courage to live with these questions. As you know, courage does not mean an absence of fear, but the intention and fortitude to act in a way that is in keeping with one’s better angels. Courage ain’t easy. It takes work to stay connected to God and to one another, to listen to one another, to love one another. Still, with God, nothing is impossible.
We are challenged in this scripture lesson, to see ourselves as both complicit and comforted. The kind of lesson that works for the Lenten season. The word of hope that abides is at the end of this lection. We are promised insight into the spirit of Jesus, the spirit of unconditional love and compassion, when we say, Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. The good news is that this has happened. The blessed one has come to us and abides with us. Amen.
