Joel D. Kline
March 7, 2004
Highland Avenue Church of the Brethren
The Second Sunday in Lent
(Lenten Theme: Journey Toward Jerusalem)
The story is told of two brothers living on adjoining farms who fall into conflict. It is the first rift in forty years of farming side by side, sharing machinery, providing mutual support and assistance whenever needed. But the conflict that begins with a small misunderstanding grows into a major fracture. Weeks of hostile silence follow the exchange of bitter words between the brothers.
Not long afterwards there is a knock one morning on the older brother’s door. Opening the door, the older brother encounters a man with a carpenter’s toolbox who is eager to do odd jobs around the farm. After thinking for a quick moment, the brother says, “Yes, I do have a job for you.” And pointing toward the creek separating the two farms, the elder brother shares, “Last week there was a meadow between our two farms, until my brother bulldozed his way to the river levee, leaving this creek to divide our land. I want to go him one better. I want you to build an eight foot fence, so I won’t need to see him or his farm any more.”
The carpenter responds, “I think I understand the situation. Provide me the nails and a post-hole digger and I’ll get started.” The older brother has some errands to do in town, so after readying the supplies, he leaves for the day, while the carpenter embraces the task at hand. All day long the carpenter measures, saws, and nails, and just about sunset, as the farmer returns home, the carpenter is completing his task.
The farmer’s jaw drops, for the carpenter has not built a fence at all. Instead, he has created a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other. It is a fine piece of work, complete with handrails, but not at all what the older brother had asked for. Yet imagine the older brother’s surprise when he sees his younger brother starting across the bridge, his hands outstretched as he says, “You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I’ve said and done.” The two brothers meet one another in the middle, embracing in a spirit of reconciliation.
Turning, they see the carpenter hoisting his toolbox on his shoulder. “No, wait!” says the older brother. “I have lots of other projects for you.” “I’d love to stay,” responds the carpenter, “but I have many more bridges to build.”
Jesus was a determined bridge builder, embracing with resolve a mission aimed at tearing down those walls of fear and misunderstanding that keep us from recognizing the fullness of God’s gracious love and that separate us from our fellow human beings. In this morning’s Gospel lesson from Luke, chapter thirteen, we gain a remarkable glimpse into just how determined Jesus is to hold fast to the mission God sets before him. Some Pharisees, elsewhere depicted as critics of Jesus and of the ministry of compassionate healing and grace Jesus offers, come to warn Jesus of an impending crisis. Herod, who has already beheaded John the Baptist, is now after Jesus.
We can only conjecture about the motivation of this group of religious leaders that comes to warn Jesus. Perhaps it is a more moderate group, much like the Pharisee Gamaliel who, in Acts 5, cautions critics of the fledgling Christian movement to take the time to discern whether or not this new movement is from God. Or perhaps this is a ploy on the part of these Pharisees to silence Jesus. Whatever the case, as William Willimon reminds us, “one is in big trouble when even your enemies are concerned for your safety!”
Jesus’ response to the warning of the religious leaders is telling. “Go and tell that fox for me,” says Jesus, “Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem” (13:32-33). In other words, “Go and tell Herod that my fate is in God’s hands, not Herod’s.” Jesus will not be deterred in his determination to proclaim God’s inbreaking kingdom. The ministry of healing and teaching—these are public acts that point to the power of life lived in God’s realm, and nothing will keep Jesus from pursuing the ministry to which he has been called. Even in the face of conflict and danger along the way, Jesus remains resolute in his journey toward Jerusalem.
“I must be on my way,” Jesus asserts. Throughout Luke’s Gospel that resolve of Jesus appears frequently. Early on, as a twelve-year-old boy remaining in the Temple even when his parents had begun their trek home, Jesus asserts, “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (2:49). Shortly after beginning his public ministry Jesus announces, “I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God … for I was sent for this purpose” (4:43). Speaking of what lay ahead, Jesus tells his followers that he “must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised” (9:22). Some time later, seeing Zacchaeus up a tree, Jesus invites the tax collector to hurry and come down, “for I must stay at your house today” (19:5). There is a compelling force driving Jesus in his ministry, a faithfulness to God’s redemptive purposes. It is a force driven by love, by a yearning for people to experience the way of peace and hope, compassion and justice, servanthood and self-giving love.
And so, reminded by the Pharisees of his mission in Jerusalem, Jesus speaks words of lament, “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!” (13:34). It’s a powerful image, this picture of a hen gathering her chicks under her wings to protect them. There are stories of exactly this: after a farmyard fire, those cleaning up have found a dead hen, scorched and blackened—with live chicks sheltering under her wings. The mother hen quite literally had given her life to save her children.
This is the image Jesus uses to speak of his love, the image of what he longs to do for the people of Israel and, indeed, for all humankind. Yet all Jesus sees are people who are oblivious to the call to embrace a new way of living, scurrying off in the opposite direction, giving little heed to their deepest needs and to the challenges of God’s call. Yet today, do we not frequently find ourselves so caught up in life’s pressures and demands that we little consider fresh possibilities?
Spiritual director Judy Cannato, in an article in Weavings: A Journal of the Christian Life, reminds us that those of us who would travel along the road of faith must learn a new language. It’s the language of paradox, a language frequently used by Jesus. A seed must die in order to live; the first will be last; we must lose life in order to find it; the greatest among us must be a servant; to follow Jesus and experience abundant life requires the denying of self and the taking up of a cross. And perhaps the greatest paradox is that you and I are sinners, those who fall short of the glory of God, yet at the same time we are persons who have been created in the very image and likeness of the God of love. And so we are continually confronted with choices in life—whether we will be satisfied with self-centered ways of living, or whether we will choose Christ’s path of peace and compassion, Christ’s way of right living and loving kindness, Christ’s road of justice and hope.
Like a mother hen eager to spare her chickens, Jesus invites and urges us to embrace life-giving, life-enhancing options. Yes, there will be conflicts along the way. Yes, it will not always be easy to be bridge-builders, to choose new possibilities in place of well-worn paths of suspicion and fear and hatred and violence. And yes, the road to abundant life is filled with risk along the way, as again and again we are called to deny self and take up the cross. But it is a road, a journey that leads to wholeness and to joy. In his book Life on the Road Athol Gill reminds us,
Traveling with Jesus sets us free from the mad craving to succeed and allows us to be real people again. We can live with our disappointments and face our failures because we know that… Jesus always encounters us as grace and love. This grace and love liberates us and allows us to celebrate God’s presence in the midst of our broken humanity.
Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms is a virtual ode to hopelessness, but it contains a remarkable sentence: “The world breaks everything, and afterward many are strong at the broken places.” Is this not the Christian message, that healing may well come through our brokenness, that repentance—turning from greed and self-centeredness, while embracing the pathways of Jesus—that such repentance involves a humility, a stooping, that may in fact leave us standing taller. It is a breaking that may well make us strong. Perhaps, with Jesus, we are being called to lament over our Jerusalems, even as we find the courage to journey toward Jerusalem.
Mennonite author Carolyn Holderread Heggen several years back wrote a book entitled Sexual Abuse in Christian Homes and Churches. She shares the reflections of Charlene Epp, a woman who experienced in her childhood what no child ought to experience—the victimization of incest. Yet Charlene found a way through the trauma, and a strength that emerged out of her brokenness. Listen to Charlene Epp’s words:
i am overcoming the darkness of my experience with incest
i can claim victory
God has been there like the steady beat of a drum
even when I was in the depths of the dark night of my soul
in the deep abyssGod was present with me
though the dark surrounded me
seemed to envelope meyet God was there
i was not aware of God’s presence
i could not name itbut it’s as if i were connected by an umbilical cord to God during this time
receiving the sustenance to endure the darkness
though I cannot name your shape God
you were there providing me strengthand gradually you have revealed your Presence in the form of light
Light that dispels fear of the darkness
Light that gives and renews Life Energy and Vitalityfor i see that though the umbilical cord has been cut
my lifeline to you has not been severedyou are present in many forms
it is only i who can limit my access to you
even if i walk again into shadows and darkness
your Presence will reach to me there
in the warm clear Liquid that fills and gives me color
in the gentle firm hand clasp of a Friend walking beside meand because i know and am assured of your Presence
i know you will cast off the shadows and darkness on other’s lives
and they too will claim the lightit is in this way that you remain Sovereign
in the revelation of your gentle firm inviting Presenceyour Strength oh God is deceptive
it appears weak in the eyes of the world
but it is a strength that endures eternity
just as marathon runners save their strength to endure the long distance
and pace themselves at a steady rateso you are oh God
Paced as a runner
Steady as the beat of the drummy victory is that i recognize you and your Presence in my life
In the midst of conflict and nearly devastating pain Charlene Epp nevertheless found Strength for the journey—a deceptive strength that appears weak in the eyes of the world, but a strength that endures to eternity. Now is the time to embrace a new way of living, to celebrate the wonder of a love so tenacious and steadfast that Jesus would journey toward Jerusalem, come what may. My friends, shall we not also, with the bridge-builder, turn toward Jerusalem, journeying with the One who offers light in our darkness, hope in our despair, peace in our confusion, love in our pain?
Deep within us, O God, we know—often without being able to put it into words—that there is a restlessness within us, a dissatisfaction with business as usual. Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you. And so we come before you this morning, holy God, seeking a deeper taste of your goodness. We come seeking a song of new life in our souls. We come before you, God, asking that you would set our hearts to loving and our hands to doing justice in your name. O God, hear us now as we pray individually for wisdom and strength and courage to experience a deeper walk of faith…
O divine Physician of our souls, forgive us for taking your good gifts for granted, for acting as though life itself is not a gift, but rather is ours by right. Take us beyond our self-inflicted wounds, our times of clutching and hoarding, our acting as if there is not enough of your grace and mercy for everyone.
Forgive our shortsightedness, our limiting the borders of your kingdom to those most like us—those in our own denomination, our own gender or class or culture or religious dogma, our own sexual orientation, our own political orientation. Remind us, Lord God, that there is room for all manner of people at your table of grace.
God of all creation, we celebrate new birth this day, and hold before you those families celebrating the birth of a child … We pray for those in special need of your healing touch…
God of grace, hear us as individually we seek the gracious touch of your healing mercies…
O God, the boundaries of your kingdom far exceed the limitations we would create. The peace you envision for us and among us stretches our souls and calls us into relationship with all creation. Grant us, then, your vision, O God. Lead us in your righteousness. Make your way plain before us, O Lord, for you are the one who opens a new legacy of compassion and justice and peace, and in it we find our true selves. In that legacy we find our home with one another, with the entire human family, and above all, with you.
Hear us now, O God, as we pray for eyes and hearts to see the coming reign of your justice, compassion, and peace….
God of us all, hear these prayers shared in the wondrous name and spirit of Jesus the Christ. Amen.