Sun, Mar 24, 2019
A Lenten lament
Luke 13:31-35 by Craig de Vos
Series: Sermons

Have you ever stood by––

feeling frustrated and helpless––

as someone whom you loved did something stupid;

as someone whom you cared about made a mess of their life?

 

With the wisdom of hindsight and experience…

I can look back on my earlier life…

and see any number of decisions that I made…

about which my dad tried to warn me…

about which he tried to dissuade me.

He tried to warn me that I was making a mistake with my first marriage––

that he didn’t think that it would work because we were too different.

In hindsight, he was right, but not necessarily for the reasons that he thought.

He tried to warn me that I was making a mistake in giving up being a vet and training for ministry;

that I was throwing it all away––

all of the study that I had done…

and all of the resources that he had invested into getting me there.

In reality, given my father’s obsession with financial success and security…

that was probably the major reason he disliked my career change.

I think he was wrong.

But it must have been hard for him to stand by…

watching me make what he saw as mistakes…

watching me as I seemed to mess up my life…

and not being able to do anything about it.

And the more that he cajoled…

the more that he told me that I was wrong…

the more that he told me that I was being stupid…

the more resolute that I became––

if nothing else, just to prove him wrong.

What I really needed from him was to know––

no matter what choices I made––

that he loved me and that he would stand by me.

 

Jerusalem! Jerusalem! 

Killing the prophets and stoning those sent to her–– 

how many times I wanted to gather your children together, 

just as a hen gathers her own brood under her wings. 

But you weren’t willing”

In Matthew’s version, this lament by Jesus occurs within Jerusalem itself—

towards the end of his ministry…

as his conflict with the Temple leadership is escalating.

And Matthew’s version has a strong note of judgment––

announcing that the Temple will be abandoned…

because of the way that the people of Judaea have behaved.

But not so, here, in Luke’s version.

Here, Jesus’ lament doesn’t take place in Jerusalem but at a distance.

And it isn’t directly prompted by conflict––

certainly not with the people of Judaea.

In fact, the author of Luke’s Gospel presents it almost as an aside…

with Jesus’ feelings of frustration and helplessness spilling over…

because the peoplecouldn’tsee what was happening.

They couldn’t see their mistakes…

and they wouldn’t listen.

And, in Luke’s story, this lament also foreshadows another moment of poignancy––

when, after entering Jerusalem…

Jesus weeps over the city and its self-destructive tendencies:

If only you recognised today the things that make for peace”.

In Luke’s version we don’t see a harsh, judgmental Jesus…

responding with denunciation…

or a sternly waved finger and a bit of clichéd homespun wisdom.

There’s no, “Mark my words, you’ll be sorry…”.

Rather, what we see here is heart-felt anguish––

like the response of a loving parent watching his or her child making bad choices and mistakes…

and not being able to do anything about it.

And that’s also the sense when the author has Jesus say:

See, your house is left to you”.

He doesn’t say, “your house is forsaken” or “your house will be abandoned”–– 

despite how most translations render it––

as if Jesus were pronouncing judgment on them.

Nor is it, even, presented as an ultimatum…

“You’d better do what I say, if you know what’s good for you”.

Rather, the sense of the original Greek is: “Your house is set free for you”.

Or, if you like, “Your house is left alone for you”.

In other words, what he’s saying is:

‘If that’s what you want––

if you want to go it alone…

if you want to do things your way…

I won’t stop you.

It’s your decision.

But, just remember, when you stuff it up…

when it all goes horribly wrong…

when you get hurt or you get into trouble…

know that I’m still here… 

waiting’.

 

How often are we like Jerusalem?

 

How often do we humans turn away from God giving rein to our self-destructive tendencies?

Just look at our world:

a world where human belligerence and destructiveness is reaping untold damage on the environment;

a world where poverty, violence, and injustice are rife…

and show no signs of abating;

a world in which we humans commit unspeakable atrocities against each other––

degrading, dehumanising, and destroying each other––

in the name of race, nationality, sexuality, and religion…

or in an effort to maintain our over-privileged way of life;

a world where inequalities are fuelled by our greed and apathy…

and our failure to respect each other…

and live in peace with each other…

not least with those closest to us;

a world where global violence and hatred is fuelled by every harsh word that we speak…

every stereotype that we propagate…

every look of disdain…

every failure to forgive…

every feeling of contempt or indifference or prejudice…

and our unwillingness to admit that, ultimately, we are to blame.

 

How often, as Church, do we turn away from God…

or crucify the prophets that God sends to us?

How often do we allow dogmatism or traditionalism to blind us to new truths?

How often do we allow our culture… 

or our political ideology… 

to distort the radical, liberating message of the Gospel?

How often do we presume that we know all that there is to know about God…

or God’s ways?

How often are we the voice of obscurantism and obstruction…

because we like things the way that they are…

and we don’t really want to change?

How often do we focus on ourselves and our needs––

or get caught up in trivial matters––

rather than reaching out with God’s love…

and participating in God’s work of renewal and reconciliation?

 

How often, as individuals, do we turn away from God…

seeking our comfort and security at any cost…

nurturing our hurts and resentments…

holding onto our fears, our worries, and our anger…

turning in on ourselves…

making ourselves ill…

rather than embracing and embodying God’s mercy, forgiveness, and peace?

How often are we part of the problem rather than part of the solution?

 

How often does God weep for us and our self-destructive tendencies?

How often does God watch us with heart-felt anguish?

How often does God feel frustrated as we muck it all up…

all the while, resisting every parental inclination to gather us up––

like a hen with her chicks;

resisting every inclination to step in and to sort it out…

to make it all better.

But, instead, waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting for us to come to our senses.

Waiting for us to turn back.

Waiting for us to embrace the way of love.

Waiting for us to find life.

 

How many times I have wanted to gather you together, 

just as a hen gathers her own brood under her wings. 

But… you… won’t… let me!